The Meltonian Gene -- by Meltonian

Back in my Gloucestershire childhood,

the one thing that gave me a scare

was the two-headed lamb which stood

at the top of my granny’s stair.

It was in a plate-glass cabinet,

topped off by a castor-oil plant,

buffed like a dowager’s lorgnette

by my ancient four-armed aunt.

I gave it to the dustbin man,

but though it was totally sick,

my six-eyed uncle loved that lamb,

and granny’s eight legs were too quick.

So it stood in its usual place

with its dead eyes and its dandruff

and every time I hid my face

twelve fingers just weren’t enough.

.