Pounds of minced meat
into which the sacred goat
poached from the forbidden cote
had stealthily been ground
were found simmering in the pot
sitting atop the cooking stand
over which he has sole charge
and those that made the find
got the sleazy man condignly fined
penally seizing the sizzling meal;
Now in the fullness of time
garbed as a Knight in shining armour
his eyes set on the village crown
cheered on by men of his ilk
the raccoon mired in his murky past
faced with the naked records in the village scroll
stands in the village square and brazenly pleads :
“That seizure of my dish was only a forfeiture
That forfeiture was not a conviction
Pray, anoint me to sit on the vacant throne.”
Sitting apart from the rest
blind to the alluring white spumes
rising from the frothing kegs of palm wine
laid before the eyes of the jostling crowd
one ruminant villager
pondering the fate of a long night
ruled over by a lightless moon
sighed and queried aloud
his voice drowned by the deafening frenzy :
“who enthrones a fox to guard the henhouse?”.
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