Study of an Artist

Study of an Artist

Bartholomew Foggerty the brilliant weasel
Sits all day propped up at his easel
Perched on a high stool to give him majesty
And in some way to off set the tragedy
For his heart was broken by a heartless critic
Who could’ve been kinder for that’s not cricket
Bartholomew Foggerty the brilliant weasel
Could never be considered sleazy
Immaculately groomed at all times of day
A hair out of place ne’er must stray
His ears are short but very effective
Picking up coughs and the slightest inflective
His nose shines bright to reflect his mind
Making the point that he is ranked high in his kind
His claws are sharp but dextrous and nimble
As he dips small paint brushes into a thimble
His eyes are bright and beady and fast
Nothing that matters to them will get past
His temper is even his mood hardly varies
Although there was that one time the dentist announced “caries”
For his teeth are not merely yellow but nigh on bright gold
Reflecting his stature as a weasel quite old
He has but one affection that he cares to admit
Well he did it himself there’s the point to it
And speaking of points we get to the nub
For at the end of his tail is a small hairless stub
He has preened back the fur and flesh to the bone
And the sharp little pointer comes into its own
When a painting or sketch or design reaches its end
He signs the work B.F. (Weasel) with his tail not a pen

 

Iain

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