The Man And The Bear
He makes his bed in the morning
And he writes in the afternoon,
Then he formally dines in the evening
Before he returns to his room.
The hedges are trimmed with the clippers
And the pantry is stocked with some care,
But the attic has never been entered
Because in it roams a large bear.
Sometimes he hears the bear snuffling
Or a sound like the scratching of walls,
But never in daylight is missing
His wife or his friends or his dog.
But one day he came down for breakfast
And found sitting there in his chair,
This bear in the bonnet and apron
His wife wears when making eclairs.
“Good morning” he said with some fervour
As the bear cut some bread with a spoon,
“It surely will be a real hot one
It’s already so warm in this room.”
The bear seemed to smile as he gathered
Himself up and jumped on the man,
Knitting his ears with incisors
And tying up other loose ends.
His wife returned home somewhat later
From her shopping trip down on Main Street,
And found him in bed with her bonnet
Just as cold as her delicate feet.
And this is the end of the story
As she thought her man died in his sleep,
Dreaming of her and her cooking
Upon perfectly fitted green sheets.