The Butcher and The Vegan

It was an unlikely affair
The butcher and the vegan
Nonetheless, they lived together
In Burnham-on Sea

He kept the building next door
To tenderise and cure
She kept their home smelling sweetly
With joss sticks and pot pourri
Pot pourri

And every Sunday at five
They would ride their bikes to the hide
And watch they oystercatchers dive
Through birdwatchers' binoculars
And every Monday at five
He would toss those feathers aside
To chop and to fillet his prize birds
Pheasants and turkeys, geese and the like

She had an old potters' wheel
Made a most terrible squeal
Reading the runes, singing old folk tunes
She making the soya-based meal
Gammon and sausage and chops
Pigs' livers, lambs' what-nots
Whistle as the gristle drops
While listening to Pick of the Pops
Pick of the Pops

And every Sunday at five
They would ride their bikes to the hide
And watch they oystercatchers dive
Through birdwatchers' binoculars
And every Tuesday at eight
Quiz night, Bull and Gate
Her friend Tricia, who looked like Morticia
His friend John, who didn't look like anyone

A most unlikely affair
A butcher and a vegan
Nonetheless, they lived together
In relative harmony
In Burnham-on-Sea