Stumpy and the Decision Tree           by Thorold May
                    page twenty-five
Wacha' up to Prawn, you slippery cocktail bite?
I fished you from the bay
And now you want to give me cheek;
I've got a headache, eh, get lost!
Ah Stumpy, be a sport, don't take it wrong,
It's just that this here cache has caught a cold
And coughed up destinations off the map.

Cache? Cold? Cough up? You're raving kid,
Your words are Irish stew …
The Warrior held up a patient hand;
Enough, you ought to know, each footprint shows,
Each journey tells its tale, each keystroke leaves a sign
Where thoughts have spun. Why hide?
This is the path you took, but what a path!

 

…to be continued

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"Stumpy and the Decision Tree" copyrighted to Thorold May 2002; all rights reserved