(A True Story!)
Our caravanning friends had settled for the night
With a quick last look at the stars that looked so bright
They closed the door and went to bed and soon were sleeping sound.
Outside of course their footwear was neatly on the ground.
The morning dawned resplendent and a walk was the way to start
But one of Peter’s thongs had decided to depart.
“It was there last night, I’m sure I left them side by side.”
And mystery of the second no one could provide.
On their second night of slumber while the brilliant moonlight shone
They wakened in the morning to find the other thong had gone.
A search began to solve the mystery of the loss
And the vineyard was scoured by the visitors and the boss
And soon a thong was found... it was from the missing pair
And then at last the second one right near the foxes’ lair.
The foxes had retrieved the pair for reasons quite unknown
But the podiatric interest of the foxes sure had grown
Backpackers came to pick our fruit and camped out overnight
And woke up in the morning to a very puzzling sight.
The five neat pairs of shoes they left for all to see
Had quickly overnight reduced from ten to three.
The thefts went on and even Duke’s Blundstone, size thirteen
Was found five hundred meters from where it last was seen.
It carries on still and foot wear goes missing overnight
And Blundstone wearing foxes have become a common sight.
The local rules are now in force and come as no surprise
That when you shoot a fox some night just check its feet for size
And if it is a Blundstone and size thirteen as well
Just drop it off at Duke’s front gate; it’s his, as sure as hell.