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Kate Rancid

The Zebra And The Flying Bus

The Zebra And The Flying Bus

The multi-fingered zebra
Stood quietly by the road,
Watching pigeons flying by
And squirrels scuttling past.
The night was dark and misty,
And zebras don't have torches.
The moon was its illumination,
The light by which it counted its fingers.

The wind blew hard,
The rain fell down,
The pigeons stopped mid-flap.
The squirrels turned to jellyfish,
And the zebra caught its bus.

The bus was full of emus,
They were cynical and old.
The baby ostrich cackled
The zebra felt uneasy -
The bus was getting faster,

Then in a crash of thunder
The bus flew up and up,
Flattening the stationary pigeons
And startling the squirrels.
The multi-fingered zebra smiled,
And exploded.

Kate Rancid (b. 1973)