The Stag

The Stag

Upon a hillock posed the mighty stag,

Antlers sway to announce his possession;

Warning all pretenders to his succession

With his eight pointed flag.

A state of tensed muscle and sinew

Roaring an echo throughout the glen,

Stretching neck and flaring nasal tissue

He challenges all to match his phlegm.

He dares not relax for e’en a moment

To let go the fruits of his endeavours

And release a hind from his embroilment

Seeking fresh pastures, gone forever.

What drives this beast of the hill

Whose herbivorous ways breed contentment?

No prisoner to the bloodlust; no need to kill

This ripe veteran of many an engagement.

It is the instinctive desire to procreate

That motivates and designs his behaviour

Seen in his violent attempt to berate

Challengers to his role as harem saviour.

It is not in anger that he flays the gorse

But to scent mark a warning,

Informing his foes

He will defend from night till morning.

King of the hill he shall

Remain until a pretender

Should answer the call.

Then the king may fall

For none can for ever

Stop what must come.

However we claim: never

Shall we succumb.

Dave Urmston 2016 c