It’s been idly supposed that some people
Who ring bells want to rock the old steeple
Since they seldom get laid
And never get paid
They must do it just for the free pull.
Though some paintings are better unhung
And most Arias better unsung
When it comes to the breasts
Of old dears with large chests
Things are better confined than unslung.
As the orchestra warmed to its task
First trombone pinched the trumpeter’s arse
Amidst the cacophony
Came the screech, ‘Just get off-a me!’
The reply: ‘But you’re more arse than brass!’
Jill gave dance demonstrations on telly
With a snake-charming man from New Delhi
While they danced the samba
Out slithered a mamba
And bit off a bit of her belly.
On the ceiling in here there’s a crack
And a wet patch that’s making it slack
When it finally falls in
With a din that’s appalling
There’ll be more of a duck than a quack.
