Downcast eyes, hands folded neatly,
Looking docile, rather sweetly;
Seemingly the peak of virtue!
I am longing to convert you!
You! The maid in my father's house.
You! The quiet little mouse!
You feign such modesty my girl,
Yet I can see a wayward curl!
There's something else that you imply....
You dare not look me in the eye!
I realise you must feign 'meek';
Only when spoken to, you speak.
But I am, of course, my father's son!
I know all housemaids can be won!
Servant girls are for the taking!
Goodness! Do I see you shaking?
Come to my room! It needs some cleaning!
*
Ah! I see you get my meaning!
*
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AIRBORNE!
Nobody born in 1931
Ever knew that bouncing about was fun!
They'd bounce on the bed, but wouldn't go too high
In case their Mothers saw the feathers fly!
They hopped and jumped in puddles in the rain
Or jumped like jack-in-the-boxes, now and again.
But bouncing like a ball they never knew;
They never saw what trampolines could do!
We who were born in 1931
Missed out on a lot of trampolining fun.
Trampolining! Exercise and art!
Pity that I'm a bit too old to start!
*
6 comments:
Caption:
"If you please, sir, 'twasn't me as kissed the farmer's son. He kissed me."
Lot of truth in that first delightful piece. I use a small rebounder occasionally. All my parts are unbroken, to date. :)
I don't know how you do it--making clever rhymes daily. This one about the victim is insightful, indeed.
Thanks for visiting Oakland Daily Photo and leaving a comment. Hope you'll come by again.
i never tried to play bouncing too even on the bed, but my kids love it.
Thanks for the comment to my ABC Wednesday.
Have a great day.
nicely done.
Very witty and clever....
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