Has-Tingings!

Off the beaten track
Away from reality
Twas here
That i first discovered
A different kind of normality
Quizzical, and curious
And full of strange things
Inspired a myriad
Of wild imaginings
Twas the last day of September
Or so i believed
That my wild imaginings
Were originally conceived
I danced the dance Fandango
Dressed up mto the hilt
I espied a flying Scotsman
Playing bagpipes
Whilst wearing a hempen kilt
He claimed to be an alien
From a far, and distant land
And oft spoke in a language
Impossible to understand
He said och aye, and och i the noo
Whilst aboard a three legged donkey
He'd mistaken for a gnu's canoe
The paddles proved to be useless
When paddling through deep snow
He had no sense of direction
So didn't know where to go
He ended up in Basildon
To seek out a reindeer sled
During which he'd noticed
He had turned a scarlet red
This embarrassed him prifoundly
As his heart began to sink
Particularly, as he had hoped
To be a shiny pink
I thus then sent him northwards
To a far of distant land
He ended up in Norway
Which the Norwegians hadn't planned
So they moved him onto Greenland
Which wasn't green at all
And in his complete confusion
Was transferred to the Albert Hall
Now Albert didn't like this
And got very flustered indeed
Especially when the Scotman's  bagpipes
Were filled with beanstalk seeds
Which filled him full of folklore
That he'd heard along the way
So of he went to Aviemore
For a well earn't holiday
And was never heard of again
Not ever, never, ever, ever again
(apart from now of course!)
I know all this
As i keep my ears full open
Unfortunately, not my eyes
Not watching where i stepped
Fell down a rabbit hole much to my surprise
Where a beautiful princess had been sleeping
Rudely awoken, when i landed on her
But okay, after a little weeping
I apologised profusely for damaging her crown
She gave me a royal pardon
Also a regal frown
I explained in full my story
And that i had travelled far
She asked on how i'd got there
As i didn't have a car
I said i'd ridden a Unicorn
Who'd charged me fifty pence
And taken me away
To a land that made no sense
And hence
I then ran backwards
To undo my strange sojourn
Ending up near a seaside town
East of easty borne
I then became a poet
My words were never wastings
And thus it happened quite by chance
I ended up in Hastings
The end
Or perhaps
Tis only the beginning
Never quite sure which is which
As the music in my head
Always forever now
Has-tingings!

by Jemia