Miss Terry went down in history
When, with a frown of mystery,
She completed her form
In the grey light of dawn
And found herself brother and sistery.
I don’t know these people, she cried,
Yet they’re all expecting me to give them
A bed for the night. Will they fight?
That would not be nice.
And if I refuse, will they abuse me
And demand their rights
To a good census night’s sleep
In beds they don’t own?
It must be right, it says so on the form,
And census forms don’t lie.
Oh what am I to do? I could go
And stay with my auntie in Cheam
Her house is a dream. But what if she
Has forgotten to mention me?
I must call all my friends
To see whose form I’m on.
But Miss Terry wasn’t on any form
And so, on census night,
She simply disappeared.
Wasn’t that weird?
Comments
insertponceyfre... | March 18, 2011 - 20:39
You're on a roll skunk! Keep writing..
Cavalcaderl | March 18, 2011 - 20:54
new Skunk
Enjoyed this humour poem
the flow of it and the census
form, damn things, who? knows really
whose where and when.
Liked the way made it all flow into
verse and stanzas.
Keep them coming your gift is clever.
julie x
Terrence Oblong | March 19, 2011 - 00:04
Census forms do lie, the world isn't full of jedi.
You toy with words the way well-fed cats toy with mice, Skunk, and I mean that in the nicest plausible way.
luigi_pagano | March 19, 2011 - 10:39
Very amusing, Skunk. Enjoyed it.