Siren Sisters Poem by Dave Dunn

The Seven Siren Sisters of old Cirencester
Are more infamous now than the lechers of Leicester
While walking with linked arms in Lincoln one day
They saw six sailors sinking pints on the public highway
Their giggles could be heard way down in Biggleswade town
Where the cattle drovers were supping in ye olde Rose & Crown

When one time they rummaged in the markets of Kent
Even they were shocked at the brass they had spent
Fourteen shillings had gone and a handful of pence
Nowt left in their purses to furnish the rent
So they came to the notion of trading themselves
For to pay the landlord and put food on their shelves

Soon all their gay laughter and raucous loud shouts
Had some of the curtains in their lodgings twitching about
And when out were seen tottering many men who were known
To be married to others that lived close by that home
There was such a commotion as the wives came scurrying forth
One carried a bucket filled with muck from a horse

A pitched fight then started with brooms and the odd frying pan
Soon the wives were left standing over each cowering man
While the Seven Siren Sisters of Old Cirencester
Sneaked out the back door and ran off to Rochester
Never again did they return there to work picking hops
But it wasn't the last time they spent too much in the shops

(c) Rhumour
October 10th 2008