The VIP - a daft ditty!
There’s a village deep in the heart of Brittany,

With some lovely buildings, church and Marie,

Where not so long ago they faced a tragedy.

They had two bars and a fine boulangerie,

An etang which really was something to see,

And good folks who formed a fine community.

The horror occurred without any warning,

And suddenly the folks got up in the morning

With low hearts and a deep sense of mourning.

The village had lost its VI and unprepared

They had nobody in mind who actually dared

To fill the post, being both awed and quite scared.

So, the Mayor took up the task he faced,

And adverts were in the papers placed,

Asking for folk to apply in great haste

To fill, as you’ll see, the VIP vacancy.

He waited and waited somewhat helplessly

Praying to God that somebody would see

The advert and apply to the villages VIP.

The good burgers held their breaths patiently

And at last somebody took the vacancy.

There was great rejoicing at the good news,

And certainly the chap had all the right views

To fill the position, driving off their sad blues.

He had all the advantages of the semi-literate

And the folks celebrations were almost immediate

That they’d filled so well the Post of Village Idiot.