Rodney was a taxidermist,
lord of creature preservation,
He made his name with marmosets,
and "Gorgeous George", a stuffed Alsatian,
Rodney had a London show,
his work was greatly feted,
His use of birchwood sawdust,
by the masters was debated,
He skinned and mounted animals,
from mice to axolotyls,
Presenting them in many ways:
on plinths, on wires, in bottles.
Rodney worked with tiny things,
like gerbils, voles and bream,
And also on much larger beasts,
and creatures in between,
Rodney's proudest moment,
was the day he was awarded,
The Golden Stuffer Trophy,
whilst his friends and peers applauded,
In short, a taxidermist,
of no mean or trifling skill,
He was a gifted artist,
happy with his lot until,
One day he saw a mounting,
of a brilliant stuffed turbot,
The work of Rodney's nemesis,
the gifted Doctor Herbert.
The turbot seemed to move and shift,
almost to be alive,
Exemplifying all the skill,
for which Rodney had strived,
Aghast with rage, young Rodney went,
to Doctor Herbert's door,
And when the Doctor opened up,
He knocked him to the floor,
Doctor Herbert woke to find,
his hands and feet were tied,
And Rodney, with a maddened leer,
was standing at his side.
"My dearest Doctor Herbert",
said young Rodney to his guest,
"I have to say, your turbot,
"Was a gall to me, at best,
"To find the true perfection,
"for which taxidermists strive,
"I fear I must restrain and stuff you,
"whilst you're STILL ALIVE!"
The Doctor, being weak of heart,
and somewhat frightened, fainted,
Preventing him and Rodney,
from becoming more acquainted,
This probably was for the best,
for Rodney took his time,
To stuff the luckless Doctor,
when Herbert's only crime,
Had been that fateful turbot:
and the lesson learned is this,
No matter how desirable,
you shouldn't mount a fish.