"The Loch Ness Monster has company in the
neighborhood: Wild boars".- New York Times
There’s trouble brewing up in Drumnadrochit,
Along the banks of sinister Loch Ness;
Wickedness bubbles up: though know-alls mock it,
They would be terrified by its success.
I learned the truth from Angus (Jock) MacTavish,
The mastermind whose cunning cracked the plot.
Although his taste in Single Malts is lavish,
He’ll spill the beans, if you supply a tot . . .
. . . Or nine or ten to get the detailed story.
Danger erupts from places far below,
Where Nessie (he has seen her!) dreams of glory,
Hoping to reign as she did long ago.
She’s formed a monstrous regiment of Boars,
To chase and terrorize the local sheep.
Each night patrol’s a slaughter on the moors,
Till farms become impossible to keep.
Then comes the hour when Nessie will ascend,
Reclaim her old domain, control a spacious
Bridgehead for conquests; which she will extend,
To rule the island as in the Cretaceous.
Angus’s eyelids droop, his gaze is bleary.
A drop, from his fifteenth, drips down his chest.
We cannot wonder that he is so weary:
He’s saved his country – he deserves his rest.
