THE LANDLORD'S TALE

 By Exile

Pom–pom, pom-pom, goes the tune,

Three pints of ‘heavy’, half a crown,

Window up, trousers doon,

Bare yer backside tae the moon,

That’s the practice of which he’s fond,

Baring his buttocks to the Curling Pond,

While the boys are playing darts,

He’s letting the air around his parts,

Now was it fact or was it fiction,

Was it a habit or a peculiar addiction,

What perverse pleasure did he get,

From baring his arse for all to inspect,

Let’s hope at least it brought him pleasure,

This uniquely eccentric form of leisure,

But schoolgirls’ fertile imaginations,

Brought this subject into conversations,

Pom-pom’s rear end was discussed,

At the school and on the bus,

I’ve always thought this an imaginary tale,

That really went beyond the pale,

I found him decent, intelligent and jolly,

Not someone guilty of such folly,

As for the truth, I’m not sure,

But it’s part of Stanley village folklore

 COPYRIGHT – Calluna Publishing 2007