A Muff Poem by Jessie Pope

I wanted a muff
On an up-to-date scale,
Of some soft fluffy stuff,
With a head and a tail;
So simple and innocent-hearted
I started to go to a sale.

My muscles are tough,
I'm not sickly or pale;
But that shop was enough
To make ‘Hercules’ quail.
The ladies were snatching and gripping,
Each using her arm like a flail.

My passage was rough
And as slow as a snail.
In attempting to luff
I was pinned to a bale,
And asked 'to mind where I was pushing”
By a frowsy and frenzied female.

They ruined my ruff
And twitched off my veil;
The shopman was bluff
When I told him my tale,
And I vowed the next time I played football
I would wear a costume of chain mail.

I went home in a huff,
Looking feeble and frail,
Still minus a muff
With a head and a tail
But my brother politely informed me
I was one, to go to a sale.