Through The Eyes Of A Poet...
Puzzled?
We had some fish a swimming,
In a bowl there were three,
One afternoon, they disappeared,
My son shouts out to me.
‘isshy gone,' he tells me,
‘Isshy gone, down there!'
He points his finger down his throat,
And rubs his tummy without a care.
Oh God, I thought, he's ate them,
But surely this can't be?
I ask again, ‘where's the fishies, son?'
‘Down there,' he said with glee.
Well I looked behind the freezer,
And I looked behind the door,
I even looked in the sink bowl,
And scoured the kitchen floor.
At last I found one ‘fishy',
By now it was almost dead,
I couldn't reach it to pick it up,
And it was lifting and moving its head.
Then at last…I got it,
And threw it in its bowl,
At first it didn't move at all,
Then it started to wriggle and roll.
‘Where's the other ‘fishies'?' Son,
I asked my two-year-old,
‘All gone, down there,' he repeated again,
He was much too young to scold.
Later, when my hubby came home,
I told him the little tale,
‘Our Joseph's ate…two live fish,
Well didn't he go pale!
Yes, well we were puzzled,
Cos we stripped that kitchen bare,
We had no choice; we had to agree,
He'd ate them live, and didn't care!
© Catherine Inglesby 1985
In a bowl there were three,
One afternoon, they disappeared,
My son shouts out to me.
‘isshy gone,' he tells me,
‘Isshy gone, down there!'
He points his finger down his throat,
And rubs his tummy without a care.
Oh God, I thought, he's ate them,
But surely this can't be?
I ask again, ‘where's the fishies, son?'
‘Down there,' he said with glee.
Well I looked behind the freezer,
And I looked behind the door,
I even looked in the sink bowl,
And scoured the kitchen floor.
At last I found one ‘fishy',
By now it was almost dead,
I couldn't reach it to pick it up,
And it was lifting and moving its head.
Then at last…I got it,
And threw it in its bowl,
At first it didn't move at all,
Then it started to wriggle and roll.
‘Where's the other ‘fishies'?' Son,
I asked my two-year-old,
‘All gone, down there,' he repeated again,
He was much too young to scold.
Later, when my hubby came home,
I told him the little tale,
‘Our Joseph's ate…two live fish,
Well didn't he go pale!
Yes, well we were puzzled,
Cos we stripped that kitchen bare,
We had no choice; we had to agree,
He'd ate them live, and didn't care!
© Catherine Inglesby 1985
