This little fantasy is tucked into the back of the funeral file.
The Threadbear of Needle St.
There was once a surreptitious Threadbear who lived in Needle St.
His safe home was in the basement of a Bank . The bankers did not know this .
His room was rather dark, with steel walls, but he had hung it with some smart paper he found in stacks on a shelf. It was white with a squiggly design of black and red .
The front door had a combination lock . Since the Threadbear was an unsociable but mechanically-minded animal he had changed the combination to BEAR 666 .
Sometimes a banker came to call on him. The Threadbear lay low , and after trying a few likely combinations the banker went away .
The Threadbear had no friends . He lived a peaceful life .
In his larder he kept honey , flies and embroidery silk in many pleasant colours . The blues were the tastiest but disagreed with him . He was a bilious Threadbear .
One day the Threadbear had run out of flies . He thought he would step along to the Sports Shop and buy some more .
“There’s sure to be nothing but feather kinds left” he said disconsolately as he put on his spats .
On the way he met a Wretched Being . It was carrying all the equipment of a fisherman.
“Why not take a tram to the Sports Shop ?” said the Wretched Being .
They climbed aboard the first tram that came by .
“You pay going and I’ll pay coming back,” said the Threadbear, and he thought to himself “ We won’t come back together.”
Are the later poems copied since before JP? no