After a hard days thinking Isaac fell asleep under an apple tree,
Woken with a jolt, with a sharp kick to the groin,
Oi! this is private land, and don’t threaten me with gravity!
Gravity? sounds interesting, sadly the weary road I must re-join.

Listen mate you kept on muttering it, gravity! gravity!
Not a clue, sorry no offence intended, my mind wobbles,
Best clear off sharpish! otherwise t’Squire will have it in for thee,
Off he went with a smirk and a wink, and lots of stolen apples!

Stopped to admire the Squire’s smart, nearly finished stable,
Enjoying a muncheon-break, he was felled by a flying brick,
Carried comatose into Smug Hall, was laid out on a billiard table,
Right on cue sat bolt upright, send for the cook and be quick!

After furtive mutterings, eureka! the apple pie was invented!
Later in a violent storm took shelter, under a handy apple tree,
Crushed by a falling bough, sadly death could not be prevented,
Body barely warm his last whispered words, gravity! gravity!

Poor Sir Isaac did sort of discover gravity, what a tragedy!
But claimed instead by Squire Smug of Smug Hall,
Not always wise to totally trust taught history!
It was on my land! Smug smugly proclaimed to one and all.

© Robert Porteus