An animal for which we care
Must be the big brown cuddly bear.
Bears are furry, bears are climbers,
Bears are loners and not rhymers.
Now and then to break this rule,
One meets a bear who’s no-one’s fool.
Whenever he can spare the time,
He has a flair for making rhyme.

Returning from the woods one day
The smallest bear was heard to say,
‘I think that I can see from here
Our door is open, Mummy dear!’
The little bear was soon proved right
As presently it came in sight;
The burst door was a nasty shock –
It would require a brand-new lock.

With claws crossed all three went inside,
One by one, not side by side;
The biggest sat down on his chair
And combed the tangles from his hair.
The second curled up on a couch,
With her pipe and tobacco-pouch.
The smallest bear fell off his stool
Which fell apart – he felt a fool.

Next they viewed the kitchen table,
(It’s the sequence in the fable)
Look! The large bowl has been tasted,
Food spat out and now it’s wasted.
The medium bowl was also sampled –
Dropped and smashed and contents trampled.
The smallest basin was upended
The silver spoon extremely bended.

They each went on to their own room
Filled with dread and gathering doom
Big bear’s king sized water-bed
Was in a pool where it had bled.
The next bear’s bed was hard and flat
The air inside had been squashed out of that.
The little bear’s bed was unbroken,
Its tenant snoring and unwoken,

This story must come to an end
Before it drives us round the bend;
It might be happy, might be sad,
Fit for a girl or for a lad;
Ursa Major, Ursa Minor
Or a panda with eyeliner –
Remember, take a lot of care
Recruiting your cub’s next au pair!

Garry Monger

The previous time I wrote a poem I was 12! Taking three science GCEs at school I dropped the Arts.

The Three Bears is my second poem, lockdown has saved my bacon but I shall have to create some doggerel for when things reopen