Wednesday, July 1, 2009

The Lion King ... maybe?

Am I here, or am I not?

I am the King of the Jungle, 
But there is no jungle here,
So I stroll around Liscolman, 
And fill the kids with fear.

There's not a lot to do,
Or come to that, to see,
Just wander cross these fields,
And think of what could be.

Thanks to a dutiful master,
Who kindly set me free,
I feel so lost and lonely,
In a place I long to flee.

This land to me is very strange,
And not what I'd call home,
I am a Panther big and black,
My destiny's to roam.

Choppers, planes and men with guns,
I've come across the lot,
All went home with heads bowed low,
The Panther they hadn't got.

It's really up to you,
If I am real or not,
The County Antrim Panther,
Forever will be sought.

Should you come across me,
Or pass me on your way,
Stop a while and think,
Of what you're going to say.

Just like Father Christmas,
I am very seldom seen,
It's only when I've left,
That you will know I've been.

by P. Anther and S. M.

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