David Harris

(18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

Cold Pud and Pantaloons Falling (Fun Poem 152)


Went to a wedding a medieval do
dressed in pantaloons and ladies tights
just the way they used to do.
The cord on the pantaloons
wouldn’t tie up any tighter
and every time I started to walk
the pantaloons were at my knees.
The tights tugged at my underwear
and several times I rushed to the gents
when I felt a moony coming on.

The food at the wedding,
well that was another thing.
The roasted hog was lovely and tasted real great
as I gummed though it with no teeth,
but the sweet afterwards was a different thing
half frozen and cold as ice
not being defrosted that well.
The apple pie was freezing
and the cheese cake like a block of ice cream.

All the while I was eating
my pantaloons slowly slipped to my knees
and the tights were preparing themselves to shrink again
and my underwear was getting ready
to give everyone another moony.
With the desert freezing my innards
there was but only one thing to do,
nip outside for a puff just to warm myself up.

5 November 2013

(Author’s Note:
This little tale of woe actually happened on Saturday
2nd November 2013 at my niece’s wedding. Apart from
my predicament my wife got locked in the stocks
and my nephew had two minds whether to release her.
Apart from all that it was a great do.)

Submitted: Wednesday, November 06, 2013

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