There are so many dangers around these days,
Each carefully placed by the Grim Reaper.
(Such as when…)
Little Pocket Pete disappeared in the street,
Up the suction hose of a passing road sweeper.
Old Fred Tuckett side-stepped his old bucket,
Then tripped over his old wheelbarrow.
Squashed greenfly that just happened to pass by,
Charlie Dongle’s darling prize marrow.
Betty in bed, with a bump on her head,
She’d bungee-jumped off a stepladder.
And poor Cyril’s sneeze, right down to his knees,
Dodgy ticker, wobbly hips and weak bladder!
And to top all of that, Harry’s old trilby hat,
Found floating in the local duck pond.
The folk gathered round, fearing Harry had drowned,
And didn’t know how to respond.
Reverend Alf felt sad to say, ‘Let us pray,
For poor Harry, God rest his soul.’ And then,
To round it all off, from the back, a cough,
From Harry, who muttered, ‘Amen.’
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