Over Wealden, wheeled ‘un, wieldin’ will… den-i-grates the deer!
Does a doz'n dozy winds-a-lane, mass-o'-car not fear?
Eeked, the shrieking brakes break idyll’s tran(scribed)quilized veneer…
Tweaked, do-eyes of Nature on us-turn with sad-eerie leer!
O the hart, it bleeds, fawn-o hindsight’s funny thing to sneer:
Antler’n’tooth bone-idle set ’gainst lantern’t’hoot near!
Road-ear’s-laid upon the ground, whack’s death-’n’they’ll no longer hear…
Overtures of cheery hedgerow song, drowned by tyre's sharp veer!
Ever whelming will men well-meant well… many doleful tear…
Doe-fall, tragic morn for stag, staggered, as the traffic drear!
Even-song of Rutter caribou-who lament for peer…
Endears dear’s end ’ere to any ear as would high-art cheer:
Rests the buck’s dead doe in fallowed ground, ploughed but for said-ear!
Growing up near Ashtead Woods, I've always held deer dear, so my first reaction was rather more mournful than mirthful; but when I heard the fatality was in Buxted on the Wealden, I couldn't help but write something to cheer my friend up. We'll leave animals awhile to continue a transport theme tomorrow.
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