Large Fierce Mammal

My Mother always said that those who won’t listen have to feel. This story illustrates that sentiment.

While I certainly don’t need to leave Lunenburg County to find some prime specimens of the sort you’ll read about here, I was inspired by the approach of St. Patrick’s Day to deliver this with an Irish flavour.

The Sons of Mary O’Flannery
(and That Which Befell Them)

By LFM

Mary O’Flannery lived down by the tannery
With her three thuggish sons she’d named Tim, Tom, and Dannery.
Of an honest day’s work, not a one was a fannery,
Their family business was theft and chicannery.

They went to the pub in a stolen white vannery,
Notwithstanding the lot of them under a bannery,
And it didn’t go well for they weren’t at all mannery —
Tim and Tom were laid low by a cast iron pannery.

The fray was concluded when the youngest one, Dannery,
Missed his swing at the barman then nimbly rannery,
Only to meet the fat end of a spannery,
Thus ending the issue of Mary O’Flannery.