Welcome to Beastly Tales. Each has a message, a moral. All are meant to have an element of humour. Naturally, any names included do not depict real folk but are included as part of the joke.
All rights reserved.
(As with Beastly Banter Beastly Tales is written and illustrated by Richard.)
Thank you for your following.
Richard
BEASTLY TALES
THE POSTMAN
Circa 1950
The postman on his daily rounds,
Made a lot of whistling sounds.
For every time, in your box, he’d drop a letter,
He’d blow his whistle to alert the “getter”.
In those times letters were delivered twice a day,
Only in the morning on Saturday.
Sunday, of course, there was no post.
But Sunday’s, all that was open were churches at most.
With telephones being comparatively new.
No internet. Communication choices were few.
So the writing of letters was important,
Making faster mail delivery something that aught’nt,
Be neglected at any time of the year,
And postal rates were not at all dear.
Algernon Stamp was our postman this day.
He delivered the mail down Midsomer way.
He always began in Petunia Lane,
Whether, or not, there was any rain.
Mrs McGillicuddy was always first to receive a letter,
Not because of her name, or that she was any better,
But because her street number was one.
Now we know that, we’ll go on with the fun,
Number two of Petunia Lane,
Was worthy of watching due to chicane,
Behaviour, that is to say, chicanery.
The complainant of the matter was Mrs Flanery.
So the two had an ongoing feud,
In fact they were despicably rude,
To one another, in the street,
Almost every time they did meet.
Now we could follow the postman all along Petunia Lane,
But if we did, at the end of it we might not be sane.
So, instead, lets go to Chancellory Cresent,
Where things seemed to be much more pleasant.
Number three, there resided Mr McGee,
He was the fount of great hospitality.
It was near lunchtime when the postman went past,
Mr McGee would invite him to take luncheon repast.
They would have a salad of tomato and letters,
And as though it was for their betters,
Their main course was a pastry envelope of fish,
What else, as a delicacy, could they now wish?
For desert they would have, by the light of a lamp,
The most delicate flavours by licking a stamp!
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