The antagonist of second labour of Heracles, in which he received a sneaky assist from his considerably brighter nephew.
For every head that is removed
Two more grow in its place
And it can easily be proved
When looking at this case,
That even if someone could slice
Those monstrous necks in seconds
Each well placed cut would lead to twice
The work. It can be reckoned
That ten of such beheadings would
Soon call for twenty more
And if your maths was any good
Then soon you’d know the score:
The speed at which you work will just
Exacerbate the task
The whole endeavour is a bust
Unless you stop to ask:
Is there another way to win?
I know it won’t come naturally
To you, although you are my kin
You never did think laterally.
Oh Uncle Heracles, where you
Have strength, you lack in cunning
But I’m the opposite, it’s true:
My intellect is stunning.
So let me help. I have a plan:
And here I’ll summarise it:
Each time you slice a neck I can
Jump in and cauterise it.
You’ll get the credit, Uncle: you’re
The big name in our house
There’ll never be a poem for
The Labour of Iolaus!
Tom Juniper Poetry 