Mr. And Mrs Kruschev's Treasured Collection of Victorian Iron Pullovers
Benjamin Braddock got carried away
Far from the haunts of his youth
By gypsies, who stole him one sunny day
From a rather obscure cafe booth
They thought but to taunt him with berries and brine,
To bait him with candles and crust
But his was a nature so sturdy and fine
His teeth you'd instinctively trust
And so, when the Gyptians had carried him far
To a gath'ring of all their tribe
They brought him some ale in a lavender jar
Which he must ritually imbibe
But lo! With his molars, all knobble and gnash,
Shining like a new pair of shoes,
He tore a great slit, a gargantuan gash
In the hand 'was holding the booze
Out came corpuscles, all crimson and cream
And the Romany King gave a terrible scream
And the Queen of the May, in a compact divine
Was picked up by the coppers and paid a small fine.
"And what happened to Benjy?" I hear you say
(if you've been paying attention)
"Just how was he killed? Or did he get away?
And live to sign up for his pension?
Or was there a twist in the story that led
The Gyptians to seek reparation
Or did he just visit a dentist called Ted
To suffer his last operation?"
If you wait a minute, I'll tell you his fate
In syllables fraught with emotion
You'll always remember this tale with great hate
Its telling will cause a commotion
So, be careful to whom you choose to reveal
And use plenty of calamine lotion!
Please survey the room with the maximum zeal
Take into account all love potions
Call loudly for silence, and when you begin
Go straight to the heart of the Notion!
Envoi
When youth is suborned
Where Mrs Robinson and Benjy coalesce
Beguiler, be warned!
Does Jesus love you LESS than you will know?
| Contributors: | Beefy, Roland, fester, Stacy Alexander, Apsley, loaf, dkb, P, E Greejius, Anon.. |
| Poem finished: | 22nd October 2002. |