Petunia Pier by Cyril Fletcher


This is the tale of Petunia Pier,
Who put health salts in her boy friend's beer.
Then one day just to pay her out
Her boy friend, name of Percy Prout,
Muttered 'This will stop her farce',
And shoved some fireworks in her glass.
Poor Petunia soppy clot, said
'Bottoms Up' And scoffed the lot.
Then lighting a fag, she murmured 'Cripes
That was a rotten lot of swipes,
The stuff they brew's a proper scandal
My tummies like a Roman Candle!'
Then snorting crossly thru her snout,
Some balls of coloured fire blew out.
Which fell around her burning bright
And set her woolly combs alight.
At which she gave a yell of pain
And belched out showers of golden rain.
Then as she cried 'Oh what disgrace'
A sound just like a squib took place
And several crackers bobbed about
And blew Petunia inside out.
So Percy took her in a sack
Round to the local village quack
Who looked and with a puckish grin
Said 'We'll have to blow her back agin'
And now admits he's puzzled quite
Just where to put the dynamite.