Simba The Lion

By Herbert Nehrlich

A lion, male and fully fed
was resting in a tractor shed.
He had misplaced his hat of straw
and did not like his skin too raw,
and as you know the Southern sun
would scare the habit off a nun.
The lion slept while his good mate
hid near the ten foot iron gate
that separated wild from tame
and was the crossroad for all game.
She knew that hubby needed rest
and, once awake he’d beat his chest
in a small gesture that he would
have dinner now, as well he should.
By then, she’d have a small gazelle
caught by the station’s shallow well,
they’d all, and often twice a day
come down to drink. Some had to pay
and this was justice of a kind
compassion though was rather blind.
While lion slept the farmer started
the green John Deere, which quickly farted,
and roared into a noisy life
’twas overheard by Simba’s wife.
She rushed into the tractor shed
where hubby, sleeping and well fed
had not been woken by the clatter,
she wondered now what was the matter.
The farmer also, still half-snoozing
due to a prior night of boozing,
had not discovered the intruder
(though he was smaller but not shrewder)
he put the gearshift in reverse
and hummed a well-known Christian verse
out through the barn door he went slowly,
while lion woke, said Holy-Moly,
what is this fellow doing here?
His spouse now whispered, hush my dear
we cannot eat this man of hope
I saw him eat an antilope.
He prays for rain and wildebeests
he is the reason we have feasts!
And so, they let the farmer pass,
he disappeared in the tall grass.
The lions, wise but practical
stayed in the shed. The tactical
and logical solution was
to rest and think of the old laws,
a farmer in a tiny shed
is useful to two lions. Dead.

This Poem Features In: