Sad, but true.
MEME EXPRESS brought this one on!
SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER
My Saturday Nights aren't fevered!
My temperature's gone down!
At the end of the week
I no longer seek
A night out on the town!
In the days of my youth, I remember,
Shenanigens were a must,
I'd take my chance
On the great romance
Or, at least, a bit of lust!
I'd dream of meeting a lover,
Who'd be dark and slim and tall,
Though I must admit
I wasn't a hit
At the Kensington Town Hall!
I'd be squeezed by paunchy patrons
Who were horribly past their best!
I'd be clutched and mauled
And overhauled,
Grasped tight to a manly chest.
Very rarely, the magic happened,
'Across a crowded room',
I'd think 'Here we go!'
When we said 'Hallo'
And my heart would go 'Boom boom boom!'
But, more often, on Sunday mornings,
I'd wake with that old 'So what!'
The night before
Had proved, as before,
That my property wasn't hot.
And now, as I'm nearing eighty,
I find that my greatest thrill
Is a cup of tea,
The cat on my knee,
A bag of sweets and 'The Bill'.
The young will find that ghastly!
They'll think my cupboard bare.
But I finally found
A man, who's around.......
A man, who's around.......
Asleep in the other arm-chair!
(For the first time I have given a false impression, deliberately! The cat, pictured as sitting cosily on my lap, in this poem, died about three years ago. So she is a memory rather than a reality. Her name was Ashleigh, not after that drip in 'Gone With the Wind' but because she was ash-grey.)
(For the first time I have given a false impression, deliberately! The cat, pictured as sitting cosily on my lap, in this poem, died about three years ago. So she is a memory rather than a reality. Her name was Ashleigh, not after that drip in 'Gone With the Wind' but because she was ash-grey.)
