Quote:
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Originally Posted by Squatchit
Ordinary Strangers
He was quaintly known as Dennis
Kept a jar of pickled pennies
From heaven or Las Vegas
In a shed behind the door
Drove a bright green Morris Minor
Every Sunday he would shine her
With a modicum of decorum
Took him hours - up to four!
His favourite films were Westerns
Never failed to tape the best 'uns
Liked to ramble near the brambles
You could see him on Mam Tor
Often pottered in the garden
When he trumped, he did say pardon
Collected spanners, kept his manners
Loyal like a poodle, that's for sure
Worked at the local shoe shop
Took his lunch, pickled eggs and cheap pop
What followed? A pickled penny he swallowed
Choked and was seen no more
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Not So Ordinary Strangers.
Pickled pennies taste like copper
So I think you’ve told a whopper
And I know that you’re a spinner
Cos I’ve heard your yarns before
You write a real mean poem
But from the truth you often roam
With your verbal discrepancies
Though I’d like to hear some more
I like it mostly when you’re flirtin
Show your legs and lift your skirt and
Pretend that you’re a younen
Though we know you’re forty four
I might be past three score and ten
But me blood still boils like younger men
When I see a set of gorgeous legs
Especially legs like yours
But I think it’s time for me to stop
Me typing finger just went “Pop”
Me back is also hurting bad
And me flamin bum is sore.
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