They could have been the perfect couple;
A duet sung in heaven.
Living in a world of hearts and flowers,
With their amps turned up to eleven.
If fate wasn’t cruel and had matched them better,
Then she could have loved that man.
But she was a badger and lived in a sett
And he was a Transit van.
She dug in the earth and lived on The Downs
And slept when she was able.
He was diesel and parked on the flat
Due to a slack brake cable.
He carried tools and a plumber called Mick
Who installed new baths and showers.
She had a stripe down the length of her nose
And a penchant for eating flowers.
Their paths met once on that fateful day
As she crossed the A420.
Mick had his right foot hard pressed down:
Late for his tea – doing plenty.
A screech of brakes then a skid and a thump
As the van and the badger met.
Metal don’t yield like fur and flesh:
‘She’s gone, now’ said the vet.
As her ghost ascended to Mother Earth
She recognised that Fate
Had so conspired to end her life
At the wheels of a fatal blind date.
The shiny chrome and sliding doors
Hid the Tristan to her Isolde.
If only they’d met on the windswept Downs
And not on this damned hard shoulder.
The moral of this tragic tale
Echoes through the ages.
In stories told around camp fires;
In Shakespeare’s hallowed pages.
Love is cruel and often wounds
The carefree woman or man.
But nothing messes a badger up
Like a hurtling Transit van!