The Butcher and the Vegan

It was an unlikely affair The butcher and the vegan Nonetheless, they lived together In Burnham-on Sea He kept the building next door To tenderise and cure She kept their home smelling sweetly With joss sticks and pot pourri Pot pourri And every Sunday at five They would ride their bikes to the hide And watch they oystercatchers dive Through birdwatchers' binoculars And every Monday at five He would toss those feathers aside To chop and to fillet his prize birds Pheasants and turkeys, geese and the like She had an old potters' wheel Made a most terrible squeal Reading the runes, singing old folk tunes She making the soya-based meal Gammon and sausage and chops Pigs' livers, lambs' what-nots Whistle as the gristle drops While listening to Pick of the Pops Pick of the Pops And every Sunday at five They would ride their bikes to the hide And watch they oystercatchers dive Through birdwatchers' binoculars And every Tuesday at eight Quiz night, Bull and Gate Her friend Tricia, who looked like Morticia His friend John, who didn't look like anyone A most unlikely affair A butcher and a vegan Nonetheless, they lived together In relative harmony In Burnham-on-Sea