Two stoats had a quarrel one fine afternoon,
"Your paw's in my food, you great buffoon!"
"Why, pray tell me, was your food placed there?"
"You placed your scurvy foot without a care!"
The second stoat, astonished, was taken aback.
"It is not I whose head a brain does lack!"
The first stoat was in a horrid mood.
"But it is not I who stuck my paw in some food!"
The second stoat thought the first to be very rude.
"Why, sir stoat, you can be so lewd!"
The first stoat arose from his sitting place.
"You, droopy whiskers, have a guilty face!
I think that you stepping in my food was not a mistake!"
"Watch your mouth, and I say this for your own sake!"
The first stoat jumped, a bowl of soup in his paw.
And with raspberries and cherries in claw.
Waving the food threateningly he said,
"I shall dump this food on your scummy head!"
The second stoat made a menacing tone,
"If you do, your measly face will meet this scone!"
Such a fight it was I find it ghastly to recall,
All the horrible injuries accounted for in the dining hall.
Pounded by pasties and beat by berries,
Hurt with hotroot and creamed by cherries.
Wounded by watershrimp and smashed by salad,
A true inspiration for any ballad.
Oh, woe to the food fight, one without glory,
But, still, this is not the end to our story.
Since the vermin had such an aversion to soap,
The results were better than any goodbeast could hope.
You could smell the vulgar vermin a mile away,
So the forts and the houses could fortify without delay.
A lesson to all dibbuns who will not bathe,
Think of the poor vermin who would not behave.
How victory denied such smelly beasts,
And what became of the afternoon's feast.
"Your paw's in my food, you great buffoon!"
"Why, pray tell me, was your food placed there?"
"You placed your scurvy foot without a care!"
The second stoat, astonished, was taken aback.
"It is not I whose head a brain does lack!"
The first stoat was in a horrid mood.
"But it is not I who stuck my paw in some food!"
The second stoat thought the first to be very rude.
"Why, sir stoat, you can be so lewd!"
The first stoat arose from his sitting place.
"You, droopy whiskers, have a guilty face!
I think that you stepping in my food was not a mistake!"
"Watch your mouth, and I say this for your own sake!"
The first stoat jumped, a bowl of soup in his paw.
And with raspberries and cherries in claw.
Waving the food threateningly he said,
"I shall dump this food on your scummy head!"
The second stoat made a menacing tone,
"If you do, your measly face will meet this scone!"
Such a fight it was I find it ghastly to recall,
All the horrible injuries accounted for in the dining hall.
Pounded by pasties and beat by berries,
Hurt with hotroot and creamed by cherries.
Wounded by watershrimp and smashed by salad,
A true inspiration for any ballad.
Oh, woe to the food fight, one without glory,
But, still, this is not the end to our story.
Since the vermin had such an aversion to soap,
The results were better than any goodbeast could hope.
You could smell the vulgar vermin a mile away,
So the forts and the houses could fortify without delay.
A lesson to all dibbuns who will not bathe,
Think of the poor vermin who would not behave.
How victory denied such smelly beasts,
And what became of the afternoon's feast.
