The Walrus Went to Scarborough

The walrus went to Scarborough,
He had always dreamed to go.
He’d longed for ice cream and arcades,
Fed up of the Arctic snow.

He washed up on the cobbles,
Exhausted from the trip.
He lay there like a blob of fat,
Wishing that he’d hijacked a ship.

The squawk of seagulls spoke to him,
The aroma of battered fish filled his chest.
“Walruses don’t need sat nav,” he laughed,
Confident he’d arrived at the right address.

Finally in Scarborough,
he thought about what he had planned.
First taste the milky goodness of a 99,
Then ride a donkey on the sand.

Next buy a bucket and spade,
Build his first ever sand castle.
Balance a beach ball upon his nose,
Hope the public wouldn’t give him hassle.

But I suppose it looks unusual:
A bald slimy dog with elephant tusks,
Whiskers like a cat,
Flippers like a ducks.

The cameras started flashing,
crowds began to gather.
He only wanted a holiday in Scarborough,
What ever was the matter?