The Pegasus Plague

Dropping in this pukey day,

I found the Pegasus away.

Instinct said they must be in,

The Stags, the Dev or Wanted Inn.

But though the ale in there was flowing,

no-one had seen them stick a toe in.

Could one or two have shot their lot ?

while banging down in Thistle Pot.

Or somehow lost their means of traction,

seeking ways of satisfaction,

in the Giants/Oxlow connection,

not a likely occupation,

for the suppers of our nation.

P8, Nettle and Hollandtwine,

may have some trogloditic shine,

but even so not even they,

can keep the Pegasus away,

from their alcoholic succour,

besides what self respecting *@"&*_@*?,

would choose to make his bed,

in a tight old hole like Lathkill Head.

Down to the information centre,

I decided for to venture.

But Mrs Young had no idea,

of why there was nobody here.

They’d not been seen for a couple of weeks,

not like our speleological freaks.

At Castleton you'll find best tea,

in Ma Lancasters parlour you see.

And in there I finally solved the mystery,

shouldn't have doubted the lessons of history.

A caving clan of another variety,

had heard that in Mendip a local society,

had attracted the Pegasus onto the scene,

by handing out free ale on Priddy Green.

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Annon.

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