A Page of Poems : General Humour - 4
Hidden Asset
(May 2004)
Picasso's "Boy With A Pipe" has just sold for $104 million
I've bought myself a painting which
I can't hang on my wall
For it's really far too valuable
To be out on show at all.
I'm so worried my investment could
Be damaged by the light
I keep it in a darkened room
Where the temperature's just right.
The room itself is treble-locked
And that is just the start,
The security I have in place is
Really "state of the art".
Light beams bounce from wall to wall,
There are pressure pads galore,
Heat and movement sensors too
And a man outside the door.
The painting's dusted once a week
And checked with infra-red
While I admire its photograph
Which stands beside my bed.
I've said it's an investment but
What's the bottom line?
Well, I'm a connoisseur my friend,
And I can say it's mine.
***
Just The Ticket
(Mar 2004)
In Menheniot, Cornwall, after thirty years
The council agreed to provide
A shelter for the local bus stop
Where the waiting queues could hide.
But would your common old plastic job
Be good enough? Oh no!
They invited a local architect
To come and give it a go.
So twenty thousand pounds was spent
On green oak and Cornish slate
And nearly twelve months later
The shelter looks just great.
It certainly is a grand affair
And, if it had some heating,
Could even be the venue
For a local council meeting
And having spent that kind of money
The council should be on show
For the buses were taken out of service
About three months ago.
***
Stretching The Truth
(Apr 2004)
It was 1541, or perhaps a later hour,
When Francis Dereham was taken to London's famous Tower.
He'd been a naughty boy for Katherine Howard he had "known":
Not a clever thing to do with her husband on the throne.
Henry The Eighth was pretty cross and almost lost all reason
And said the Queen would have to go for having committed treason.
But proof was what was needed and it couldn't all be bought
So Dereham was arrested and his confession keenly sought.
He was taken to the torture room and tied upon the rack
And the creaking wheels were turned until they'd taken up the slack.
The rackmaster then smiled at him, a smile that wasn't sweet,
Then he took a goose's feather and tickled both his feet.
He burnt poor Dereham with heated irons and gouged out both his eyes
But no confession could he get, much to his surprise.
He turned the wheels some more, there was a tearing noise and then
Dereham who'd been five-feet-two was almost five-feet-ten.
But still they couldn't break the man, no matter what they tried,
Until it was the rackmaster who just broke down and cried.
Then Henry came along to see if confession time was near
And having heard the problem he whispered in Dereham's ear.
The young man listened quietly and then suddenly confessed
And the rackmaster stared and said, "Well now, I'll be blessed,"
"Your Highness, that was brilliant but just what did you say?"
"I said he could change places with you for one whole day." ***
Maureen's Magic Moment
(Nov 2003)
Maureen was getting on a bit,
Fifty-five had been and gone,
Just like all those boyfriends
Who'd never stayed for long.
So sitting in the pub one night
With her usual glass of gin
She was feeling rather melancholy
When a handsome man came in.
'Handsome' is a subjective word,
It's all in the eye of the beholder,
And he certainly did catch Maureen's eye
But then Maureen was getting older.
Anyway, as luck would have it
There was only one empty chair
And that was next to Maureen,
Who'd quickly put it there.
"Is it okay if I join you?"
He asked in a voice rich and clear:
Maureen, speechless, nodded her head
So he sat down and spilt his beer.
There followed a moment of panic
As they both tried blotting her skirt,
But when he smiled and said, "Sorry"
She began to outrageously flirt.
She adjusted her blouse to reveal
The cleavage she normally hid
Then, struggling for conversation,
Asked what it was that he did.
He turned out to be a magician,
Though not very good it was clear
For he had a certain clumsiness,
Which was why she was smelling of beer.
They drank and they talked for hours
And with every gin she grew bolder,
Giggling just like a young schoolgirl
She forgot she was getting older.
Yes, Maureen was falling in love,
Her hand into his hand she put,
Then, searching for ways to impress him,
She scratched her nose with her foot.
The resultant burst of excitement
Left her far from disappointed
'Cos Marvo, for that was his stage name,
Loved women who were double-jointed.
He begged her to help with his new trick
And the gin made it seem quite a laugh
That he'd just lost his latest assistant
While learning to saw her in half.
Thrilled that at last she was wanted
Maureen knew they would make a good pair,
But then had some slight misgivings
When he stood up and fell over his chair.
They staggered out into the night
Yet nobody did they disturb,
Not even when Maureen laughed out loud
As Marvo tripped over the kerb.
Together they swung round a corner,
His arm draped over her shoulder,
And nobody ever saw Maureen again
But let's face it, she was getting older.
***
Maureen And The Salesman
(Nov 2004)
It was eight o'clock on a Friday night
In a place called Eccles End
When a travelling salesman found himself
Alone without a friend.
He saw the lights of a hostelry,
A pub called "The Butting Goat",
And he thought it seemed the very place
To wet his tired throat.
He parked his car and entered
Through a door that just said "Bar"
And stepped into a cloud of smoke
From a very large cigar.
He coughed and bumped around a bit
Till his watering eyes could see,
Then found himself beside a girl
Who watched him curiously.
He thought, she looks quite pretty
And a flirt would do no harm,
So he smiled his bestest salesman smile
And turned on all the charm
"Let me buy you another drink,"
He said between his tears
And she wobbled dangerously on her stool
As she answered with a "Cheers."
He dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief
And as his vision cleared
The girl put on about thirty years,
And the beginnings of a beard.
"Are you alright?" the woman asked
And wobbled a little more
And the salesman suddenly noticed
What he hadn't seen before.
For the woman sat there legless
And not through too much booze
But actually without the limbs
To warrant tights and shoes.
"My God!" the salesman said out loud
Then quickly apologized
For he really was a decent sort;
Just more than a bit surprised
So it might have been his curiosity
Or just pity that made him stay
But he bought another round and then
Another was on the way.
She said her name was Maureen
And she'd been lonely too
Until she'd met her Marvo,
A clumsy magician who
Had made her feel so wanted
That her feelings grew quite strong,
And full of gin she'd helped him with
A trick that went so wrong.
Then things were getting hazy
As the woman told her tale
And at the very gruesome part
The salesman turned quite pale
For he'd never ever met before
A woman sawn in half:
Indeed, a woman who seemed to think
It was all a bit of a laugh.
He heard the sound of saw on bone
And smelt the blood and gore
And promptly fell into a heap
Upon the dirty floor.
A gentle shaking woke him up:
He groaned and raised his head
And a voice said, "Hey that's better,
"We thought you might be dead."
"You came in here a while ago
"And began to fall about,
"Then you hit your head on that low oak beam
"And knocked yourself clean out!"
"That's very strange," the salesman said,
"There was a legless woman here."
And the room took on a respectful hush
And no one touched their beer.
"Ah, that's the ghost of Maureen,"
Said the barman with pursed lips,
"She visits every now and then,
"Well, the bit above the hips."
He explained that she'd been haunting
When the salesman fell about
And he must have made her think of Marvo
When he gave his head a clout
But he really should feel flattered,
It was pretty scary but
Normally, to see her there,
People had to be half-cut.
***
Thanks For The Prezzie
(Jan 2005)
Thank you for the present
You really are most kind
I opened it the other day
Sadly though to find
I'd been given two already
But I really do not mind
For the others fell apart and were
To the bin confined
But still, I'm very confident
That yours is well designed.
***
A Winter's Tale
(Feb 2005)
It was a cool December night
And I was on the pull
When I met this lovely-looking girl
In the bar of "The Talking Bull".
I remember it all so clearly -
The repartee and chat,
I smiled at her and she said,
"Whadaya think you're looking at?"
Her voice was like a foghorn
But she moved with style and grace,
Especially when I tried it on
And she slapped me round the face
But then she kissed it better
And held me really tight
And asked if I was going back
To her place for the night.
Refusal would be really rude,
Was what went through my mind
As I climbed the stairs up to her flat,
Admiring her behind
And then the door was open
And she led me to the bed
Past the handcuffs, and the whip,
And the plastic horse's head.
There were pictures on the wall of men
In rubber gloves and masks
And women smoking pipes and wearing
Stockings and red basques,
And on the bedside table
Was a truncheon, long and black,
Next to the photo of a labrador
Wearing a plastic mac.
It all seemed just a bit surreal,
Which I put down to the booze
And the little pill I'd taken earlier
To keep me set on 'cruise'
Then things got kinda busy,
There were people everywhere
And everything went hazy
But I didn't really care.
Next thing, I was sitting
On a seat in Regent's Park
Wondering how I'd got there
And why it wasn't dark
And why I'd got a headache
And a dry and painful throat
And why I'd got no clothes on
Underneath my coat.
So let this be a lesson
To those out on the pull:
Beware the voice like a foghorn,
It talks a load of bull
But of course there is an upside
Should you wish to have a go,
'Cos I know that I enjoyed it -
I've seen the video.
***
Weed Control
(Feb 2005)
I thought I'd buy a parakeet
To try to keep my garden neat
But all it did was gobble up my seeds.
Later someone told me that
It actually was 'Paraquat'
I needed to get rid of all the weeds.
***
Ring The Changes
(May 2005)
Back in the nineten thirties and forties
When the travelling circus was king
The drum rolls and squeals of excited children
Had a very familiar ring,
A ring that was home to tigers and horses
With sawdust that covered the ground
But it got up the noses of most of the animals
For they were tired of travelling around.
And so when the circus opened in Cleethorpes
One Tuesday morning in May
The tigers and horses said that they ought
To boycott the matinée.
The lion said firmly that it just wouldn't do,
He'd got his professional pride,
But that after he'd performed in the mane event
He'd perhaps be on their side.
The giraffe was a very vocal supporter
Which was not how he was in the wild.
For giraffes are reluctant to stick out their necks,
They're usually too meek and mild.
The trapeze artists wavered a little to start with,
In fact they just swung to and fro
But when someone said that he'd hide their net
They came down, not as con, but as pro.
The clowns all thought it was a bit of a laugh
And hundreds of jokes were cracked
While the sealions thought that getting it right
Was a bit of a balancing act.
The tumblers jumped at the chance to let
Their vaulting arrogance shine,
And just for a while they supported each other
Until they fell into line.
The elephant tried to keep up with it all
But was getting in quite a flap,
So in the end he just walked away
Saying he'd forgotten to turn off a tap.
Then the tigers and horses and most of their friends
Told the ringmaster of their vote,
And he said that it seemed a great idea
'Cos he'd got a very sore throat.
And so that day the big tent was quiet,
No drum rolls, no oohs and no aahs,
Just disappointed queues waiting at bus stops,
For not many people had cars.
Now news travels fast, particularly when
The news is especially bad
So when the gates opened for the show that night -
Not a child, or a mum, or a dad.
Well, that was the beginning of the end of the circus,
And it only goes to prove
That to stay ahead in the world of showbiz
You've got to keep on the move.
***
all the above works are copyright David Axton © All Rights Reserved
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