The Moose that Drank too Much

This poem begins with Tycho Brahe (known long previously) Who owned a rather strange animal that acted deviously This pet chiefly being Alces alces (also known as a moose) Had a slight little issue of overindulging when set loose

This odd configuration of a moose and man Became famous in Denmark for the way they ran So one day a nobleman wrote to Tycho and said ‘Do you have something faster than a deer on a sled?’

Tycho responded with great satisfaction, ‘Indeed, I do! I’d be perfectly happy to lend my fastest moose to you! But you will have to wait until after Christmas Day If my moose (who enjoys Yuletide) is to have his say.’

The truth was that the moose was rather partial to The festive smörgåsbord that was now to ensue: Pickled herrings, Lucia’s lussekatter, Christmas ham with mustard, Gravadlax salmon, Jansson’s Temptation, different sorts of custard!

But of all Nordic delicacies that day It was Uncle Jørgen’s mead which made him bray Oh, it was lovely! So dark and thick and sweet! So much better than their bread or cheese or meat!

The moose would admit that he had indulged a bit too much (To the point that for dinner the company had none such) And Uncle Jørgen took him by his antlers and said, ‘You bloody moose! You’ve drunk all our ale and ate our spread!’

So Tycho ordered his pet back to stable The moose bowed his head, feeling quite unable And began to meander down the stairs Swishing and swashing, having passed all cares

Then he stumbled: bumbling, falling and tumbling quite far down Children laughed at the clown while women did begin to frown Uncle Jørgen shook his head, ‘No more mead for that goose of a moose!’ A chill ran through Tycho’s synthetic nose and he cried, ‘What the deuce!’

As it was, the moose knocked his head against a cannister And crumbled to the floor beside the wooden bannister Two days later he died of haemorrhage and was mourned By his owner Tycho who sobbed, ‘Poor dear, you were warned.’

A fortnight passed and he took up his quill (dipping it in ink) And he wrote to the nobleman saying he was in a kink ‘My best moose (for whom you recently asked) has suddenly passed And now there is no one to beat a deer on a sled going fast

‘However, I have one comfort to suggest (Don’t think badly of the moose—he was no pest.) But I do now have this ever-slightest hunch That I can send you the remaining moose munch.’