Tudor Rickards’ ‘There’s Furries at the Bottom of the Garden’ by GM Jon

There’s Furries at the bottom of the garden But you mustn’t call them either he or she Just behind the row of peas, hiding out among the trees They all look very nice, it seems to me I can see one dressed up as a badger With badger stripes of furry black and white One of the markings goes from the forehead to the nose Its colouring dark as any moonless night A furry friend explained what I could see Was a get-together where the Furries meet Like the last night of a Prom there’s a lot of goings on With all the furry friends for you to greet They play all sorts of games that furries like Like Furry chess and hunt the furry slipper There’s the Furry Paper Chase, a blindfold Furry race And ‘Hit the Blindfold Furry with a Kipper’ There are tales of Furries turning up at School Dressed as their animal of choice Some as a domestic cat, and others as a bat And one a rabbit in a green Rolls Royce The teachers try to play it really cool Says it’s their way to play the fool They sometimes bark and hiss, and try to steal a Furry kiss Insensitive to any ridicule. The cat insists upon a minimum of needs Refurbished litter in a proper tray The badger in the night is looking for a fight But the kangaroo boxes only in the day Celebrity status beckons for a few Among this furry-clad menagerie A furry Iguana becomes a star on Panorama But you mustn’t call them either he or she. No, you mustn’t call them either he or she.