Black Country Bugle

Turkey Trot

By Reg Summerfiel­d


Aynuk and Ayli went for a ride Driving in the Shropshire countrysid­e After some fishin’ and riverside fun They got thirsty in the midday sun.

They felt hungry, wanting some grub So they ate and got sozzled in a little pub After all the scoffin’ and guzzlin’ beer Both their stomachs were feeling queer.

They decided to rest, to ease the pain They parked down a secluded country lane They got drowsy, began to snooze Sleeping off that dinnertime booze.

Ayli was woken by a tapping noise At the windscreen, a bird with enormous eyes It tapped again with its giant beak Ayli woke Aynuk, with a shriek.

The bird bolted off, at great pace Aynuk and Ayli quickly gave chase They followed the bird at quite a rate But pulled up quickly at a five-bar gate.

A farmer who was standing by Said ‘You won’t catch him unless you fly He’s one I hatched from turkey eggs They all came out with three legs!’

‘I fattened them up to enormous size Those great big legs, with meaty thighs My wife, son and I like turkey meat A leg apiece ... a Christmas treat’

Ayli said, ‘They’re very nice, I’d bet!’ ‘Cor tell,’ said the farmer. ‘I ay copped one yet!’

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