The Butler And The Lady, In Waiting. Poem by Bryan Sefton

The Butler And The Lady, In Waiting.


My Lord, my Lady is waiting
She is ready, she says, to retire
And would you desist in partaking
Of whiskey in front of the fire
My Lord? A word of warning
There is a gleam in her eye
She wears a flimsy adorning
And her manner is coy and quite shy


My Lord, my Lady's still waiting
She perfumes herself with an essence
She powders appropriate places
And is anticipating your presence
My Lord, I feel I should tell you
Her voice is quite sultry and deep
I think we are safe in assuming
My Lord won't be getting much sleep


My Lord, my Lady's still waiting
And is writhing about on the bed
She is running Her hands down her person
And her eyes they dance in her head
May I add that my Lady's patience
Appears to be wearing quite thin
She is hinting at raiding a guest room
And getting another stud in


Pardon, my Lord, she grows angry
She told to, quote, tell that toad!
That here is one heated filly
That is going to be bloody well rode!
Pardon, my, Lord, but she told me
To 'go tell your bloody sire
If it isn't done here then we'll do it down there
In front of the help and the fire! '


My Lord, you need no longer hurry
She lies like a baby at rest
The threat has now been rescinded
Of picking the best from the guests
Would you like me to pour you another?
Yes, I did exactly as told
If you'll excuse me, my Lord, being naked
I really am feeling the cold.

Friday, June 12, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: humour
Bryan Sefton

Bryan Sefton

Farnsworth near Bolton, England, UK
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