Hedgehogs V Cars.

W from Wales, a pen pal of mine who also happens to be a huge hedgehog fan, sent me a copy of this poem that was written for her by her aunt who sadly died earlier this year.

I am very found of hedgehogs
which makes me want to say
that I am struck with wonder
how there's any left today.
For each morning as I travel,
and no short distance that,
all I see are hedgehogs,
squashed and dead and flat.

Now hedgehogs are not that clever,
no, hedgehogs are quite dim
and when he see your headlamps,
well, it don't occur to him
that the only wise thing to do
is to up and run away.
No, he curls up in a prickly ball
and no doubt starts to pray.

Well motor cars can travel
at a most alarming rate
and by the time you see him
it is always way too late
and so he gets a-squasho'd,
unnoticed but for me
with me pen and paper
sitting by a tree.

It is universally proven
in both chapter and in verse
that in a car versus hedgehog fight,
the hedgehog comes off worse.
So when whistling down your prop shaft
and bouncing along the cliff,
his coat of nice brown prickles
is not effect-iff.

A hedgehog cannot make you laugh,
nor whistle, dance or sing
and he ain't much to look at,
and he can' t make anything
and in amongst his prickles
there's fleas and bugs and that
but that ain't no need to leave him
squashed and dead and flat.

Oh spare a thought for hedgehogs,
as well as one for me.
Spare a thought for hedgehogs
as you drink a cup of tea.
Spare a thought for hedgehogs,
hoverin' on the brink't.
Spare a thought for hedgehogs
lest they become extinct.