Thursday, 6 November 2008


My sister won’t thank me for telling you how
She grew up the way that she did
For reasons I’m not going into right now
We called her the Cucumber Kid
But that was before she took up with young Dan
So dashing and daring and bold
He was all that my sister could want in a man
And he’d do anything he was told

It was easy to tell he was under her spell
He shared all her strange predilections
And, secure in the knowledge that Dan had the courage
Of all of my sister’s convictions
They’d stroll arm-in-arm round museums and zoos
The picture of heady romance
They wore matching sweaters, had matching tattoos
And sometimes they wore the same pants

Then after a while she became rather bored
He wasn’t the Dan that she’d known
She looked up old friends that she’d lately ignored
And left him at home on his own
For he’d lost all his spark and his wild enterprise
He was even more dozy than most men
So you can imagine my sister’s surprise
When she found he’d run off with the postman

He left her a note which she found when she came
Rolling in from a night on the prom
It didn’t say much, but he’d signed his full name
To make sure she knew who it was from
Now, given the chance, at the drop of a hat
She’ll tell you what Dirty Dan didagain
She lives all alone with her budgie and cat
And we call her the Cucumber Kidagain

Will Hames, November 2008


Rhett said...

That is such wonderful verse. Reading you inspires me to write but that urge never concretizes in poetry. (My more basal urges do, not the more refined ones.)

Joy Leftow said...

Damn what a story. Is it true?

Will said...

No, it's a complete fabrication, but it annoyed my sister: mission accomplished!

tanuj solanki said...

annoyed...tat must have infuriated her!