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How unpleasant to meet Mr Medlin,
Always his poetical eructions peddling
(Frankly, it quite does my head-lin):
It reminds me I once knew a chap called Edlin
Who was obsessed day and night with the roots of trees
And how their leaves (he said) pas de deuxed in the breeze,
I recall he had appallingly muddy knees:
You know, now I think on’t, I prefer Mr Medlin!
Apologies to Herbert L. Edlin, author of The Observer’s Book of Trees (1975), a greatly enjoyable and helpful volume.
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© February 2023
