The Hurricane That Tore Our Beloved Condominium From Its Very Foundation
Behind the bandstand, when we dared
To venture for a smoke
They tried to make me understand
That life is but a joke
That, lacking punch in ev'ry line
And lacking wit to see
'Twas I alone who, woebegone,
Must go and make the tea
And my position, then as now
As butler to the band
Held one advantage only, which
You may not understand
Unless, before some high-flown gig
You've watched the girls arrive
And handed some a backstage pass
And watched them come alive
The dressing-room, the powdered air
The feedback from the stage
The aftermaths, the autographs
The "maestro" in a rage
The tempting and the teasing
The hiding fronm the press
The jail-bait all too pleasing
The outcome, you may guess
And so, goodnight from Reading Gaol
I'll be for a while
Retiring from the public gaze
Unless I get a file
Concealed within a stick of rock
Or other sly device
If so, be ready for a shock!
My vengeance won't be nice
| Contributors: | Roland, TG, Beefy. |
| Poem finished: | 9th December 2004 by Roland. |