I walked into the kitchen
for another glass of wine,
in a good frame of mind.
I met a mop in a bucket;
a lovely looking lady,
she fell towards me.
I said good evening, then thought,
how should I play this?
then the words just spilled out
shall we smoke?
go for dinner?
should we fool about?
are you happy to come
to the lounge for a drink?
give it some thought
let me know what you think,
if you’re tired, I’ll understand
just a chat mind, nothing underhand.
I left her to make up
her mind while I climbed
the stairs to the loo
I saw myself
in the mirror, thought,
young man, you will do
go back down the stairs
to continue the story,
if the bucket dries out
christ she’ll lose all her glory.
but when I walked in, of her
there was no sight.
Lucy had locked
her in the garage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem