BEASTLY TALES

MONTAGE

She was seventy five years old, didn’t need glasses,
Drank straight from the bottle, one of those lasses.
Wilbur McGrub invited her to his flat, this fair colleen,
“It’s not very big, but I keep it most clean,”
Referring to his apartment, nothing obscene!

“I’m not feeling so well,”
“Since my meal last night, I’m feeling like hell!”
“You should go to the doctor, no doubt,”
“I can run you over, in my runabout.”
“Of course, I’ll not really run over you!”
“If I did, a medical appointment you really would have to pursue!”

“I’ll put you up for membership of my Club, Old Boy!”
“Playing golf from our club, is a matter of Pride and Joy.”
“Please do not be bothered, Old Chap!”
“Any club that would have me as a member would be a mis-hap,”
“No, I would not want to join a club that would have me as a member!”
“Be it anytime from January to December.”

“Are you going to Wilbur's funeral tomorrow,”
“Yes I will, and I’ll feel some sorrow,”
“That it’s highly unlikely he’ll come to mine,”
“A most one way effort, if I may opine.”

He brought it up, over his cup of tea.
Messy it was, he regurgitated messily.
Said he, “When I start to cry and sniff,”
“Have you an extra handkerchief?”