The Abominable Snowman

There in the hill the snowman stood
Built tight against the invading hordes;
Blunt as a Dutchman in the Transvaal
Blindeyed and lonesome, a sentry for the King
Bound round his neck is a child’s orange scarf
He squints, mindless plaything of the tiny gods,
Icon for the neighbours who silently read in
His making a poor enough look-out.