I thought I saw a badger fight
a brawny, fierce baboon;
their teeth were bright in silver light
reflected from the moon.
The cunning badger hassled well,
the ape’s defeat was near;
the ground was ruddied by his blood,
it whimpered now in fear.
The badger ceased its frenzied strikes,
and struck a pose instead:
“The Climate-Gate Enquiry’s great,
you’ll now concede,” it said.
I rubbed red eyes in wild surmise,
the truth now clear to me:
two drunken warmist loons I saw,
debating with a tree.
(Originally posted at Bishop Hill’s site.)