Wednesday, July 2, 2008

47. Hanging On!

A Purloined Poem! Someone else's joke! But the jokes that 'go the rounds' have no copyright so that leaves me free to embroider. Don't read this if you're a prude!


After an evening's passion I was lying in her bed
Letting some romantic thoughts circle in my head.
I felt completely satisfied and quite relaxed as well,
When Lulu shot bolt upright and loudly whispered 'Hell!
I can hear the front gate opening! It's my husband at the door!
He'll soon be coming up the stairs! What are you waiting for?'
I was waiting for my trousers, but she didn't seem to care.
Her husband's footsteps could be heard, now coming up the stair!
Now, I'm a skinny fellow with a rather concave chest
And when I'm seen without my clothes I just don't look my best.
In the wee hours of the morning I felt utterly exposed,
But I hopped up to the window which was, thankfully, not closed.
The early morning air was chill, the sky still black with night.
I cocked my leg across the sill, descended and held tight.
I let my body unfold down and clung with my finger tips,
As the scratchy bricks that made the wall collided with my hips.
I clung there like some maggot clinging to a piece of meat.
All white and flat and stretched out from my head down to my feet.
I heard the husband enter. I heard Lulu's cries of joy.
Was it only half an hour ago she called me her 'Lovely Boy'?
His bed had been kept warm for him, oh lucky, lucky him.
But from where I clung my future was quite definitely grim!
It began to rain; along my back the rivulets ran down,
I hadn't got a big red nose but I knew I was a clown.
I longed to jump down to the earth, and make a quick escape.
I cared not that the populace would stand around and gape.
I'd brave their jeers and cat-calls and, as fast as I was able,
I'd streak back to my own address and hide beneath a table.
But, in my haste to bed the girl who'd got me in this mess,
I hadn't even noticed much when we got to her address.
How many flights had I run up to achieve this-evening's goal?
I'd no idea and now I found myself in this dire hole.
Was it three flights, or was it four? Was it, maybe, thirteen?
One doesn't count the flights of stairs when feeling really keen.
I dared not let my fingers ease, I dared not just let go,
For sure I'd smash myself to bits on the concrete ground below!
And so I hung on doggedly as minute followed minute.
I couldn't end this episode. Why the hell did I begin it?
At last the vaguest touch of dawn came creeping up the sky,
And an early-morning milkman saw me there as he passed by.
'Hey you! he said 'For Goodness sake! What are you playing at!
You're only inches from the ground!
Lulu lives in a groundfloor flat!


Bear Naked said...

Purloined poem or not, I found it humourous.


Ha ha ha! Too funny.

Kat said...

Was reading this clinging to the edge of the chair, with heart pounding....... and how coolly you let the milk man steal-the-thunder..!!!!


EG CameraGirl said...

Bwahaha! I enjoyed reading that. ;-) And elevation is a very fine E word too.