Wednesday, 6 January 2010


Her breasts hung down like a sad dog’s ears,
And swung around like chin drop tears,
And veered about with sequential ripples,
And appeared to be devoid of nipples,
Although they produced both stout and bitter,
And flowed at night when the punters hit her.

She paraded them for free some days;
They shaded her from harmful rays,
And fished the left one out one night,
We all wished she’d flashed the right,
As this resembled perfect marble,
And not blue cheese upon a table.

But respect was due for being around,
And the effects she had upon the town,
As ten a penny stowed to her shore,
And many kids rowed back for more;
She must have taken all our purity,
And enough lust to secure sureties.

She lived alone and without pimp,
And thrived throughout a painful limp,
Acquired one night from a dodgy trick,
Who had tried to enter her exit;
She could not sit down for a week,
And stood on one leg to take a leak.

And when the foot turned to gangrene,
Her ‘friends’ were hardly ever seen,
Until the day they cut it off,
And the way was cleared to her trough,
Then two a time were taken in,
And few remembered how she’d been.

Eventually she was less devout,
Apparently way laid with gout.
Bed ridden sore she took in strays,
Well hidden from her glory days,
But business slowly disappeared,
And with this all our hopes and fears.

And then one day the signs came down,
And people say the sky turned brown,
As twenty men carried her out,
And plenty more cried all about;
They buried their pasts along with her,
Then hurried back for her daughter.

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