Bronwen's Birthday Poem
God, I’m glad that you were born,
That you were by your husband shorn,
Who left you sitting on the bed
Petting faithful Camilla’s head;
Who left you when’re the Fire bell rang,
Without a thought, without a pang;
How could he leave such a lovely creature,
A perfect love in every feature?
A heart that overflows with grace,
Why it’s a scandal, a disgrace!
How could he willingly depart
From that bounty called your heart?
To go and fight a neighbor’s fire
To leave those eyes filled with desire?
But he left you trundling down the stairs,
Bedecked with gear running here and there,
While a fire was burning in your soul,
His eyes were icy, his heart was cold;
While shopping in the local mart
I put a heater in our cart,
“When we shop I always think of sex,
It’s not for us, it’s for your ex.”
He lives across from the fire house,
“Lets visit” Said I to his former spouse.
We found him in his basement pad,
Cold and lost and looking sad,
“It’s a space age heater… it’s infra red! ”
We eyed the cold pipe above his bed.
“It’s a great way to keep your apartment warm.”
(I prefer his ex-wife’s form.)
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