The Head Restaurant

And so it began, of us there were three:
A ladybird, an engine and little old me.
And the strangest of restaurants that you’d ever see
One night where we journeyed for a wee spot of tea.

Inside a beetle we traveled along
A road whilst the ladybird sang us a song.
A car that’s a beetle, who would have thought?
Its legs were short, it was bumpy, and my nerves were quite fraught.

The engine enquired about my stethoscope
I said, “I’m not wearing one, is this some kind of joke?”
But that’s how he knew I’m a real doctor, you see,
As only an imposter would wear one without patients to treat.

With a stepety step sextet step to the left
We arrived at the restaurant reviewed as the best.
A giant human head, at least six stories tall
That served starters and mains and desserts for all.

From out of the beetle the ladybird leaped
As myself and the engine tripped over our feet.
“Hurry up doctor,” she called full of good cheer,
“Our table’s in here through the ear at the rear.”

Unsurprised at my surprise we were led to our table
by what I determined as a mixture of spaniel and ladle.
“My, my,” remarked I admiring the view of the sky
As we were led from the ear to the behind the right eye.

The engine was fondling the ladybird’s thigh
To whom she turned with a sigh and gave her reply;
“Not now, Mr Engine, and certainly not later,
I have no desire to give birth to part radiator.”

“Would a carburettor be better?” ventured the frustrated engine,
“I guarantee my offspring will never need mending.”
“Honestly,” said the ladybird, “attracted to you?
Please just be quiet and read the menu.”

“What a l-lovely place,” I stammered in haste,
“With fine cutlery and plates and smells you can taste.”
“Have you chosen a course?” asked an oncoming horse,
“I’ll be your waiter. Would you like to order now or later?”

I looked at the menu only to see
A written language that made no sense to me.
Was my confused selection from the menu.

The ladybird and engine were quick to agree
And the mysterious dish became an order for three.
The horse neighed in approval and off he did canter
To pour us our drinks from a crystal decanter.

As the meal would have to see me through the course of the night
I hoped I hadn’t ordered something too light.
So I sat anticipating a culinary delight
Or at least a dish that I wouldn’t dislike.

It was amusing to see, from our table of three,
A quintet of penguins singing five-part harmony.
I soon found myself coming to grips
With a quintet of quintessential quick flipper quips.

The fattest penguin gyrated his hips
And puckered his beak like a pair of little lips.
It was then I heard the sizzle of something crisp
As I turned to see the waiter approach with our dish.

The cutlery clattered, I was asked what’s the matter
As I frowned at the food that stared back from the platter.
“Nothing,” I spattered amidst gossip and chatter.
Steak, mushrooms and chips, in a place like this?

How strange…

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