There was a man from Ilfracombe
Who lay upon the shore.
The day had started well enough,
Then fallen through the floor.
His wife had left him high and dry,
Still sleeping in their bed.
She’d quietly packed a suitcase and
Gone off with milkman Fred.
His dog had done a whoopsie grand
Upon the fireside mat.
Then knocked some paint from off a shelf,
Which landed on the cat.
‘I’ve had all I can take of this,’
He said as there he lay.
‘The gods have got it in for me;
It ain’t my bloody day.
‘I think I’ll walk with stately stride
Into the ocean foam.’
But then he saw the tide was out
And took the bus back home.
We cope, don’t we?
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5 comments:
This is so dorothy parkerish. Delightful.
Beautiful words. The large form of water like sea can really calm sadness, anger down. I know what's it like when once I was sad that I knew nothing but driving to a beach and cry.
Gosh, Lady I, what a compliment! If only I had her ready wit. She's somebody I would like to have met.
Mei-shan. Different perceptions. I've heard that the energy of trees can do something similar.
hahaha that was good :D did you write it?
I did, Jen, I did. It's how my brain works in the early hours.
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