The Nocturnal Visitor
Oh, hullo little hedgehog, fancy finding you out here,
But then again, it’s night-time, so why shouldn’t you appear.
I almost didn’t see you; I’m glad that I’m wearing shoes,
'Cause stepping on top of you with my bare feet wouldn’t amuse.
I’ll try to be more careful when I stroll outside at night,
Lest it be that I give you an unintentional fright.
Perhaps I’ll carry a torch so much better I will see
Exactly where you’re squatting, and bristling with armoury.
Oh, by the way, is it you that nibbles my rubbish bag?
It has to be some creature — yes, some night-time scallywag.
I’m constantly finding holes where some little teeth have been,
As it seems that some creature views my bag as a canteen.
I’m always happy to share, and especially my scraps,
But what I don’t like is, that mess, and those raggedy gaps.
I’m forever cleaning up, and patching those holes I find,
After some moonlight raider on my left-overs has dined.
You only have to ask, you know — that is, if it is you,
And I’ll keep some scraps aside, suitable for you to chew.
You can hang ’round my back porch, and I’ll check to see you’re there,
And don’t worry ’bout tabby, she’s a sook, who’ll simply glare.
It’s sad you’re so prickly, sorry, covered in spikes, I mean,
As, affection’s limited, yes, folk simply aren’t too keen.
They’ll natter to you, they’ll feed you, but pick you up? Oh, no.
For you’re one big pin-cushion, you’re needles from top to toe.
But don’t take it to heart though, it’s simply the way you’re made,
And who’s going to bother you, no one, they’re too afraid.
Besides, you come out at night, so, no one’s likely to see
A hungry little hedgehog adopted and spoilt by me.
By Lance Landall