Two Dead Romans Poem by Rory Hudson

Two dead Romans
were sitting on a wall
when one, whose name was Marcus,
was blown off by a squall.
The other dead Roman,
whose name was Fred, if I recall,
had his toes curled round a very large brick,
and so he didn’t fall.
Then a respectable old lady
who’d been shopping at the mall
heard the unfortunate Marcus swearing
in a ditch beneath the wall.
She said, “By the three noses of Moses!
This just won’t do at all!
We can’t have these dead Romans
hanging round our city wall! ”
She spoke to Fred as he sat there
and said to him, “I call
on you to wrap your friend up
in an ancient Roman shawl.”
At that, poor Fred got nervous
and he began to stall:
he said to her, “Dear madam,
I wouldn’t have the gall -
I’ve never wrapped a body
in an ancient Roman shawl,
You see, we’re both cadavers,
and our cortexes are small,
that’s why we’re very happy
just to sit here on this wall.
We’ve sat for two millennia
until just now a sudden squall
caught my poor friend Marcus
and blew him off the wall.
I think he might have broke his leg,
for he can barely crawl;
and his small brain has been affected -
he’s now got an Aussie drawl.
Myself, I hung on tightly,
and so I didn’t fall,
although I easily might have
if I hadn’t been on the ball.
Now, if it had been me
who had toppled from the wall
I’m sure Marcus could have helped you
with an ancient Roman shawl.
He used to be a tailor,
and always was on call
till Julius Caesar had him shot
for nicking togas from the mall.”
The respectable old lady
cried out loudly, “By Saint Paul!
That goddamn bloody Julius!
I never liked him at all -
I’m glad that Brutus did him in
at the Forum in a brawl!
I’ve often nicked a toga
from the local shopping mall;
or perhaps it was some underpants,
right now I can’t recall.
I stuff them in my handbag
or in my carry-all,
and I wear them to go boogeying
at the local Rotary hall.
But since you’re both cadavers
and cannot make a shawl,
I think you should be covered up
in a nice black funeral pall.
I’ll arrange a funeral for you
with orgies, odes and all;
we’ll throw Christians to the lions -
you’ll really have a ball! ”
At this, however, Marcus
sat up against the wall
and then, to the old lady,
with a broad Australian drawl,
he said these quite ungrateful words:
“Although I’ve had a fall
I don’t want no bloody funeral
where mourners caterwaul!
And looking at you, madam,
I see you’re rather tall,
therefore I wish you’d pick me up
and return me to the wall.
I’m only a cadaver,
I don’t weigh much at all,
and you can see, it’s very obvious
I’m really rather small;
(they would not let me on the team
to play men’s basketball)
so it wouldn’t be too hard for you
to put me on the wall.
You see, we’ve gotten used to this,
we like it, overall.
We thank you for your kind concern
and helpfulness and all,
but we’d rather be two dead Romans
sitting on the wall.”
The old lady said, however,
“No, it can’t be bad at all
to pass one’s nonexistence
on a dignified city wall,
from where I’m sure you get good views
of our lovely City Hall.
It sure would beat doing the shopping
in an overcrowded mall
where the air is much too stuffy
and the toilets much too small.
If someone gives me a leg up
I’ll scramble up the wall
and take the place of Marcus,
since he can’t even crawl.”
A passerby assisted,
and with one mighty haul
the respectable old lady
clambered up the wall.
“I tell you what, ” Fred said to her,
“you don’t look bad at all!
Come, sit upon my lap, m’dear,
and we’ll have ourselves a ball! ”
So now the dear old lady
is up there on the wall
canoodling with the late great Fred
who’s happy, after all -
and although his good friend Marcus
might curse and swear and call,
the old lady and her boyfriend Fred
are having an absolute ball!