Gargoyles: always too damn small,
A squander of a spitting spout –
An impish whisper, not a shout.
Apologies atop a wall,
Embarrassed to be there at all,
When always far too mono-grey,
And always, always too damn far away.
A shame, because their gothic clout
That any stonechip ought to flout,
Is blurred into a lump of flint.
And yet, there’s so much hidden booty
In their twisty, gnarly beauty,
If we’re just prepared to climb or squint.
But otherwise, these witty beasties –
Masterpieces, have no doubt,
A burst of sneer and snot and snout –
Will never scare the nuns or priesties !
Make them bigger ! Carve them deeper !
Ev’ry goblin, troll and creeper,
Give them gravitas and grout !
Let us see each gruesome grizzle,
Else the mason works their chisel
Long and hard for all of nowt,
And all those wings and fangs and scales
Are lost to time and frost and gales –
But most of all, to apathetic drought.
Don’t leave them overlooked, forgot,
Or we shall lose the lonely lot,
And long before their warts have weathered out.