Hannibal Quack
Had lost his knack
For eating other ducks.

He’d nibbled a few
Of ‘ducklings’ new
He’d eat their toes
And parson’s nose
But now in bed
And over-fed
He’s nothing rich
Within his head.

Hannibal Quack
Turned on his mates
And ate them all –

Through love, not hate.

He’d fly with them
Up high to view
His meal’s four sides
Before the chew
But now in bed
His wings are dead –
Still only greed
Lives in his head.

A Picture pinned
upon his wall
Depicts his ‘family’
waddling tall
Now side by side,
his skin, their bone,
Are laid in rest
(as picture shown.)

This scene’s in my
web gallery
To show what can
but need not be
As surely now
we’re all inbred
To store more sense
within the head.

( © Grant. Pub. 1998)