(Of such stuff are legends made)

 

 

I’ll tell you a story as happened in France

It’s all very true – I’ve no need to enhance

My tale of me leading Keith Castle a dance

I confess that it was a bit rude

And Keefy he got in a mood.

 

He was laid on his sun lounger fast asleep

His thoughts were untroubled, his dreams just as deep

His mouth it gaped open so I couldn’t keep

Control then, for love nor riches

Of the todger inside my breeches.

 

I crept up discrete like an Indian scout

The devil was in me (the todger was out!)

I knew what I’d do though, I hadn’t a doubt

No question at all that I’d dare

As he lay inviting me there.

 

I must have been clumsy and nudged on his chair

Or maybe a rustle had lodged in his ear

But he opened his eyelids to see quite clear

Unexpected but there to behold

My todger all manly and bold.

 

He didn’t think much of this rude comic stunt

In fact he considered it as an affront

To his pride and his dignity, the pompous fellow

As he flapped about in his chair

(I believe that I heard him swear).

 

He reckons he’s taken a couple of knocks

From his younger days when he says that he boxed

But I’ll bet my fortune to old sweaty socks

You’ve seen nobody else in this world

Punch as much like a girl.

 

He moaned and he sulked and he spit out his dummy

I had to say “Sorry”, prostrate on my tummy

But I couldn’t agree it was nothing but funny

If I live to get long in the tooth

I can’t bear to tell him the truth.

 

I know that deception’s a bit of a sin

But I haven’t the courage to disabuse him

He thinks as he stopped me from popping it in

But the truth is the wrong road about

-You see, I was pulling it out.