Fishy tale of go-for-it Goldie’s great escape

I once knew a laddie who lived in Carlisle — From civilisation t’were many a mile. His parents were strict — and denied him a pet. Whenever he asked, it was ‘NO!’ he would get. A cat would spit furballs; a budgie would talk; A gerbil’s too rat-like — and dogs need a walk. But pressure he put for to grant him his wish — So fin’lly they caved — and they bought him a fish. This creature was wond’rous — a pure golden hue; For the bonny wee laddie, a friend so true. He fed it; he cleaned it; he took it to school — Though this weren’t allowed, as a general rule! But one day it rained and it rained — and it poured. A poor guy named Noah near fell overboard! So, what about Goldie, the fish in the bowl? He watched all the rain — and it cheered up his soul. He saw the tide rising and longed to be free.

‘This rain comes from Heaven! ‘This rain comes for me!’ And then, with a surge and a powerful gust, The bowl fell from t’table to t’floor — and got bust. With a swish of his tail, he swept through the door And out in the road — as a captive no more. He joined with the others who swam down the street. For none of them ever had life been so sweet! But pity the laddie who home now was bound.

Imagine the horror that he would have found When ent’ring the house with no Goldie to find! Believe me, ’tis true, he went out of his mind. He searched the house high and he searched the house low — With never a sign of poor Goldie to show. While out on the street, as the water got chilly, The poor little fish thought: ‘I’m being quite silly!’ He looked all around him and, feeling perplexed, Was quite undecided as what to do next. But then, as he pondered, a kind passer-by Took pity, and scooped him, and bore him on high And carried him back to the house whence he’d fled — Where all breathed a sigh — for they thought he was dead. And Goldie said: ‘Laddie, leave home again? Nay! Whatever may happen on April Fools’ Day!’

W. George Tyson, Crowborough, E. Sussex.