Riposte

“You are old Sam Coleridge,” Mr Otter said,

“And your gaze is quite dead from some drug,

Yet you talk to wild animals animatedly,

Pray, are you in need of a hug?”

“Are you there Old Coleridge,” Otter uttered,

“You stopped dead upon reading your sonnet,

Yet your moans bespeak longing for the native brook

And the eating of strawberries, a whole punnet.”

“You are somnolent Sam,” Mr Otter said,

“Who would mourn youth nor tug the forelock;

That stuff must do a power of good but oh dear

Would you know - it’s that fellow from Porlock!”

“It’s been nice to chat but I really must dash;

I will execute this in the form of a splash.”