supplied the illustration! (Not me!)
Angeline was an awful prude,
She never showed her skin.
She was always covered from head to foot
And was very aware of sin.
Her mother had said she must keep herself
Away from the common gaze;
'Ladies' she'd said ' Are fully-clothed
And always wear their stays.'
Angelina was well-behaved
And did as she was told,
And throughout the years of her girlhood
She was as good as gold.
However, her beauty was so great
That the men became aware
And fantasised about the body
That lay under the outerwear.
On her eighteenth birthday
She received gifts galore.
Most of them were ordinary,
Bought from the local store.
But Ben Balonky gave her a bike
With a little silver bell.
But he thought he wouldn't tell her
That the bike was under a spell.
'It's called 'The Lady Godiva'
Said Ben, with obvious pride;
'Why don't you jump on it right now
And go for a little ride?'
Excitedly Angeline mounted
Fully clad, of course,
And the magic made her fantasise
That she was riding a horse!
Off came her thick wool stockings!
Off came her blouse and stays!
Very soon her nudity
Was revealed to the public gaze!
'Tally Ho!' shouted Angeline
'This is the life for me!
Mother! You didn't tell me
About the joys of nudity!'
What happened to Angeline after that
The history books don't teach,
But I bet that she spent her holidays
On the nearest Nudist Beach!
In the days of old there were nasty things
Designed to catch the flies.
They hung from cottage ceilings
Without thought of a disguise.
'Fly Papers', we used to call them;
They were yellow, long and thin;
Deceitful yellow ribbons
To draw the insects in.
The Fly Papers were sticky;
The flies were trapped and died;
Fluttering and squirming
With nowhere they could hide.
And their bodies simply hung there
Till the ribbon was obscured
And the sight of a mass of decaying flies
Could hardly be endured.
Today we have computers,
With Bloggers in their thrall.
All over the world are the victims,
Bloggers, wall to wall!
The Maxine's, busy blogging,
Are attracted to their screens,
And like struggling flies they cling there,
Masses of Maxines!
See, in the illustration,
How her hands are surely stuck
To the keyboard which restrains them;
Obsession run amok!
We try to ignore the attraction,
But we're drawn to that silver screen.
We'll never, never be free from it,
Give up the struggle, Maxine!