The Phantom Fox
Down Orford way, close by the sea,
The Simpsons ran a B and B,
For husband Bill and Jane his wife
It was ideal, they loved the life.
A dog they had, a clever pet
Of unknown breed, they called him Jet.
Now in the summer, trade was fine,
Soft beds, good food and local wine.
But in the winter months ’twas bleak
No travellers did their cottage seek.
But then one day, they had some luck,
When up their drive there came a truck.
Two men jumped out, bright eyed and keen,
The cottage signboard they had seen.
"We’re from the Fox Free Task Force, sir,
A fox round here’s made quite a stir.
Our boss wants us to check the ground
So we’ll stay here till he is found."
And daily more reports came through,
The tally of the sightings grew.
But in the hills and paddocks flat
They could not find a single scat.
And where he hid 'twas hard to tell.
Like fiction’s Scarlet Pimpernel,
They could not find him here or there.
Their patience then began to wear.
Some three months on and nought to show,
With budget blown they had to go.
Said Bill, "Our dog he loves a lark
When roaming nightly in the dark.
And ever since he was a pup
He likes to play at dressing up.
And if I give a little shove,
That fox pelt fits him like a glove.
Those extra bed-nights filled our bank
For that we have our dog to thank.
So now, my dear, I’ll book some flights,
At Burleigh Heads we’ll spend ten nights.
And yes, young Jet, you’ll have a treat -
You’re going to get some juicy meat."
© John D. Duncan October 2009