By our back garden wall sits a black compost bin.
Would you dare lift the lid?  Would you dare to look in?
     Inside you might see a monster’s fierce eyes.
     No?  Changed your mind?  Oh you’re ever so wise.

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Just step over here.  Can you now hear him chew?
He’s chomping and chewing his dinner all through.
     Now stop and then listen.  Well, what can you hear?
     Oooh, a very loud burp, but you’ve nothing to fear.

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It’s dear Old King Compost who lives in this bin.
He has round, yellow eyes and a large hairy chin.
     Deep down in the dark, sitting there all alone,
     Lives this ugly old monster upon his big throne.

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He dines upon fruit peel and rotting old greens.
They’re gobbled up quickly - his plate is soon clean.
     Look!  Father is throwing him green garden waste.
     All that grass and those weeds have a wonderful taste.

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He doesn’t go shopping and, of course, never cooks.
There’s no time in his life for toys or good books.
     He won't even wash or comb his long hair
     And why should he worry what clothes he will wear?

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Each day of his life is spent gnawing and crunching;
A nap after dinner then back to his munching.
     As he does a good job, we will never complain.
     Good Old King Compost.  Long, long may he reign!

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Copyright on all my poems

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