Childhood
        
GOLDILOCKS AND THE THREE BEARS
by Roald Dahl This famous, wicked, little tale Should never have been put on sale It is a mystery to me Why loving parents cannot see That this is actually a book About a brazen little crook Had I the chance I wouldn’t fail To clap young Goldilocks in jail Now just imagine how you’d feel If you had cooked a lovely meal Delicious porridge, steaming hot Fresh coffee in the coffee-pot With maybe toast and marmalade The table beautifully laid One place for you and one for Dad Another for your little lad Then Dad cries, “Golly-gosh! Gee whizz! Oh cripes! How hot this porridge is, Let’s take a walk along the street Until it’s cool enough to eat.” He adds, “An early morning stroll Is good for people on the whole It makes your appetite improve It also helps your bowels to move.” No proper wife would dare to question Such a sensible suggestion Above all not at breakfast time When men are seldom at their prime. No sooner are you down the road Than Goldilocks, that little toad That nosey thieving little louse Comes sneaking in your empty house She looks around, she quickly notes Three bowls brimful of porridge oats And while still standing on her feet She grabs a spoon and starts to eat I say again, how would you feel If you had made this lovely meal And some delinquent little tot Broke in and gobbled up the lot? But wait! That’s not the worst of it Now comes the most depressing bit You are of course a houseproud wife And all your happy married life You have collected lovely things Like guilded cherubs wearing wings And furniture by Chippendale Bought at some famous auction sale But your most special valued treasure The piece that gives you endless pleasure Is one small children’s dining-chair Elizabethan, very rare It is in fact your joy and pride Passed down to you on grandma’s side But Goldilocks, like many freaks Does not appreciate antiques She doesn’t care, she doesn’t mind And now she plomks her fat behind Upon this dainty precious chair And crunch! It bursts beyond repair A nice girl would at once exclaim “Oh dear! Oh heavens! What a shame.” Not Goldilocks, she begins to swear She bellows, “What a lousy chair.” And used one disgusting word That luckily you’ve never heard (I dare not write it, even hint it Nobody would ever print it) You’d think by now this little skunk Would have the sense to do a bunk But no, I very much regret She hasn’t nearly finished yet Deciding she would like a rest She says, “Let’s see which bed is best.” Upstairs she goes and tries all three (Here comes the next catastrophe) Most educated people choose To rid themselves of socks and shoes Before they clamber into bed But Goldie didn’t give a shred Her filthy shoes were thick with grime And mud and mush and slush and slime Worse still, upon the heel of one Was somehting that a dog had done I say once more, what would you think If all this horrid dirt and stink Was smeared upon your eiderdown By this revolting little clown (The famous story has no clues To show the girl removed her shoes) Oh what a tale of crime on crime Let’s check it for a second time. Crime one, the prosecution’s case She breaks and enters someone’s place. Crime two, the prosecutor notes She steals a bowl of porridge oats. Crime three, she breaks a precious chair Belonging to the Baby Bear. Crime four, she smears each spotless sheet With filthy messes from her feet. A judge would say without a blink “Ten years hard labour in the clink.” But in the book, as you will see The little beast gets off Scot-free While tiny children near and far Shout, “Goody-good! Hooray! Hurrah! Poor Darling Goldilocks,” they say, “Thank goodness that she got away.” Myself, I think I’d rather send Young Goldie to a sticky end “Oh Daddy” cried the Baby Bear “My porridge gone, it isn’t fair!” “Then go upstairs,” the Big Bear said “Your porridge is upon the bed But as it’s inside mademoiselle You’ll have to eat her up as well.”
The end