Friday, 7 August 2009

Don Wilson - a humorous poem

John Crooks, a former president of the British Veterinary Association, frequently called on my father's services to dart dangerous or unmanageable animals. He composed this poem for his friend and colleague, Donald Wilson.

When all of You are Dead and Gone
John Crooks, MRCVS, Beverley.

When all of you are dead and gone,
They'll still tell tales of Immobilon Don.
So settle down - fill your glasses, of course,
And I'll tell you the tale of the unlucky horse.
Everyone was helpless, the owner upset,
No one could catch it, not even the vet.
Ever since he went out, in the spring of the year,
They couldn't get near him and thought it was fear.

But the crafty old equine, it wasn't just fear,
He was blowed if anyone was going to get near.
For saddles or bridles were not to his taste,
Nor galloping, nor jumping, nor unseemly haste.
Lots of grass, lots of sleeping and nothing to do,
While other poor ponies could wait in a queue,
For snotty nosed kids in pony club hats,
Instructed by colonels in breeches and spats.

His name was a legend, like Churchill or Beckett,
Or Engler or Amin or Sir James Reckitt.
Don loaded his darts, Don loaded his gun,
Shooting horses with Immobilon is skilfully done.
"I'll soon put a stop to this ridiculous farce!"
Out flew the dart, slap into the arse.
The horse leapt forward, brushed past an alder,
Staggered and swayed - and fell into the Calder!

The river was fast and the river was deep,
And Immobilon induces a most rapid sleep.
As they pushed out a boat Don stood in the bow,
"He's just about out, put a rope round him now!"
There's a legend at Reckitts that Don never missed
Bullocks, camels or horses, sober or p...d.
It's true, cardiac arrest was occasionally found,
But this was the first PM finding "Found drowned"!
© John Crooks - 2004

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