The slugs are evolving


It may be my mind is full of fug
But I maintain it was a slug.
It’s clear you see that they’re evolving,
I saw one tackling a revolving
Door, you know quite skilfully,
Their mastery is plain to see.
And then it rocked up to reception
(Well that at least was my perception).
And if one clearly managed that
It’s not unlikely they attacked
My pint glass, filled to brim with beer,
And quaffed it down and gave a cheer
Of triumph as they chortled out
The garden gate, without a doubt.
Raising empty glass aloft,
Pausing momentarily to scoff
My strawberries, so warm and moist
Their sluggish hearts must have rejoiced.
Then made straight for the horse and crown
And later headed into town.

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