Number 11, Day 8, Little Miss Muffet

May 2nd.  I fell behind yesterday. Having mown the lawn after work I was so tired I went to bed early without inspiration.  Nevertheless, I am ahead on aggregate, just, as it is day eight, so here is today's:

Number 11, (354 to go):

Little Miss Muffet

Little Miss Muffet sat down at the buffet,
Eating her yoghurt and honey:
A rich man who spied her, plonked down beside her,
To tempt her away with his money.

Little Miss Muffet was pretty and twenty,
Which couldn’t be said for the fellow,
Whose figure was plenty, but character empty,
Under skin that was tanned to a yellow.

She was fragrant, demur and delightful,
Sitting peaceful and soft like a cat.
He reeked of cigars and was frightful,
And she declined to respond to his chat.

Little Miss Muffet tried to get up to leave,
But he carried right on with his quest,
But he made the mistake that so many men make,
By addressing himself to her chest.

Miss Muffet was prim and polite in reply,
She’d been perfectly properly raised:
‘Excuse me’ she said, ‘look me straight in the eye!’
But he wasn’t that easily fazed.

'I’ve a house in Bahamas and satin pyjamas,
And the housework is done by a cleaner'.
'I don’t care what you sat in' Miss Muffet replied,
'You’re really not making me keener'.

'Oh come now Miss Muffet, you surely can see,
That your heart can no longer resist,
You’ve got nothing else planned so please take my hand,
Come away and have fun, I insist'.

'I’ve a sports car, a plane, and I sail quite a bit
You can travel the world with me,
I’m balding a bit and I’m not very fit,
But I’m still only fifty three!’

But Miss Muffet by now was fed up with all that,
And she had to get rid of him fast;
She said ‘My dear Sir, but you’re much too fat,
On my list you would be very last!

© Stephen Saunders

To book Steph'nonsense for a rhyming evening:
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