The Curious, True Saga Of Mally And The Bulbs Poem by C Richard Miles

When I was a lad,
I certainly had,
With Mally, a great
Best mate
At my school,
Though he could be a fool
And just a bit
Of a twit:
One morning,
Without warning
The bulb blew
In his downstairs loo.
So his mum
Says to him, “Son,
Get on your bike,
Sharpish-like,
Down to the shop.
Don’t stop;
Hurry back, lad,
’Cos your dad,
I know,
Wants to go! ”
Since she sent
Him, he went
And bought a light
(Which was right)
But, in his push
To rush,
Back, after he’d shopped,
He dropped
The bulb…
...Gulp!
No time to lose,
(Mum’d blow a fuse)
Back to the shops
He pops.
Second time around,
Bulb’s on the ground
As he crashes
And gashes
His knee,
You see.
No fear, so,
Our hero
In his haste.
No time to waste,
Thirdly,
Absurdly,
Bikes back
Down the cart-track
For yet another
Bulb, for his mother,
Gets it back
Home, intact,
His poor Dad
Is glad:
He never believed
He’d be relieved.
Next day,
Strange to say,
(Wouldn’t you know it?)
Another bulb went – blow it!