I call this page Poesy with a maniacal glimmer in my eye. Whenever I write serious poetry, I always read it back with the absolute conviction that I could never give it to anyone else to read EVER because of my crippling embarrassment when they were, inevitably, sick on it. So instead, I tend to revert to (hopefully) comic verse, usually in the form of mind-numbingly numerous rhyming couplets. So, um, enjoy. And please don't leave any comments that may savage my unimaginably fragile writer's ego...

Mr Ferret and the Power of Bosom

Oh, they would come, from far and from close
To sit and to watch and to take in their dose
Of miraculous beauty; incomparably fair
Was the lady whose voice was as bright as her hair.
These gentlemen came – from London – from Rome
With waxy moustache and hair neatly combed.
Beside them sat many disgruntled, plain wives
Who watched on and wished for control of their lives,
As bosom, more famous than voice or than hair
(Reputedly more than one hundred times fair)
Oozed forth from restraints, and nothing could hold
The eyes of the gentlemen more than their goal.

Her beauteous chest could easily merit
The trip that was taken by Edward the Ferret
The night when he came to sit and to see
Her silken-lined voice reach miraculous keys.
Running his fingers along his moustache
He looked at his lady with thoughts rather harsh.
And tipping his bowler hat over one eye
Compared her at once with the buxom lass nigh.
His grimace was shared by one and by all
Whose mercenary marriage was taking its toll.

It merely so happened this moment of thought
(A past-time which Ferret had never yet sought)
Was then interrupted in pleasantest ways
As beauteous singer placed on him her gaze.
It needed a moment and then it was done:
He’d never yet rest till her heart he had won.
Once so resolved he was restless to start
The difficult business of winning her heart.
For the rest of the show she continued to look
Upon Mister Ferret, sinking her hooks
Sufficiently into his weaselly mind,
As is so often the case with his kind.

Now, our Mister Ferret, as you may have guessed
Had neither the manners nor mind of the best.
It was then this failing that let him not be
Suspicious her choice should be no-one but he.
Concluding the show, the flaxen-haired wench
Blew kisses and simpered as if she were French.
Her kisses particularly blew towards Ed.
Her kisses and bosom soon went to his head.

The red curtain fell. He abandoned his wife,
With happiest notions of his coming life.
Wanting for wealth had so quickly died
With she and her bosom by his faithful side.
In frenzy of love, he banged on her door.
She pulled him inside – with a lion-like roar
He cried out “I love you!” With no more ado
He stripped off her bodice. Her bosom came too. 

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