Naked!
Bien je jamais, sacre bleu,
Whatever next, uh-oh, mon dieu!
How is it that I have found,
Myself in a nudist camping ground?
Oh my goodness, zut alors!
Now I know what clothes are for,
What a ghastly sight they be…
I wish they’d face away from me!
And Jiminy Crickets, what to do?
Do I have to join them too?
All I want is peace and quiet,
Not this fat and ugly riot!
Some of them are twenty stone;
They really should have stayed at home,
I know we too will all get old,
But for heaven’s sake, less bold!
Up until the age of forty,
Stripping off feels nice and naughty;
But by the time you’re eighty nine,
It’s really time you drew the line.
I’m staying here inside my tent,
Fully clothed, I’ve no intent
To venture forth till it gets dark,
When I’ll discreetly leave this park.
I’ll go to where the real world go,
Where normal people go to show
Off, where the best way to be seen is,
Fully dressed in their bikinis!
© Stephen Saunders
Please read number 54 again now.
To book Stephen for a rhyming evening:
bowleyfarm@gmail.com or 01428 741212
Agent / publisher / illustrators wanted.
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