Lent Without Sister Amelia
A slice of cake, soaked in madeira,
And carefully nailed to your head
Will, according to old, mad Vera
Quite heighten her pleasure in bed
A cup of tea, sweetened with honey,
And thoughtfully tipped in one's ear
Will not only make you feel funny
But to your spirits give cheer
A piece of bread, spread with sweet butter
And clamped to the armpit or knee
With help keep your home free from all clutter
But might make you whistle off-key
A chocolate eclair, smeared with whipped cream,
And then super-glued to your nose
Will surely endear you to Mr Bream,
Purveyor of used panty-hose
And so – when I ask you to supper –
Will Claret or Chablis be yours?
As we dine off wares made by Tupper
That threaten to shatter our jaws
Feasting on kidneys in aspic
While sipping a rare Nuits-St-Georges
When I tweak your knicker elastic
And chatter just like Victor Borge
Contributors: | Apsley, loaf, fester, Roland, Beefy. |
Poem finished: | 17th July 2002. |