The Bull and the Bear
They called the old bull Death, his body boulder-size;
Steam boiled from his breath, fire burned in his eyes.
His hide was rough as cactus, mud-caked hair and coarse;
Hooves were sharp as axes, kicked with deadly force.
But all of this was nothing compared a-top his head;
His horns, now, they were something, white and black and red.
It was his horns that gained him fame and gave him such an ugly name.
Like mountain peaks they stood apart, tipped like iron spear and dart.
They glistened in the moonlight, and sparkled in the sun;
Aged with many bear fight, all of them he won.
The old bear’s name was Twinkles, why, he never hurt no one.
They trapped him in a gold mine when winter sleep begun.
Now, Twinkles, he was drowsy when they took him from that mine;
His fightin’ skill was lousy but his dancin’ skill was fine.
A lasso was not needed for he skipped it to my loo;
And he thought that he competed so he put on his tutu.
It was his dancin’ gained him fame and gave him such a silly name;
He spun and whirled and tapped and sawed and people, they just oohed and aahed.
They lured him to the ring with ballerina shoes;
Soon he was a-fling to people’s aahs and oohs.
They loosed ol’ Death to fight while Twinkles flitted so;
The bull charged with his might, the bear, no place to go.
Death was comin’ on, Twinkles danced away;
Blood would soon be drawn and a bear rug on display.
But Twinkles, he was cuckoo and when the bull arrived,
He waved him with his tutu, a cape, he had contrived.
That wasn’t such a pretty sight, Twinkles without tutu tight;
And it got stuck on ol’ Death’s horn, could not be shook, could not be torn.
He tried to get it off but upon his eyes it bound;
Twinkles came in soft and knocked him to the ground!
Twinkles won that day, Death was so forlorn;
He should have walked away, but he tutu’d his own horn.