The Man from Dollis Hill

‘Please let me come and visit,’
Begged the man from Dollis Hill,
As his glasses misted over –
‘You’ll get mentioned in my Will!’

So I took him at his word,
And said that he could visit me,
I gave him toast and jam,
And quite a lovely cup of tea.

And then I saw his hand,
Upon my wife’s silk-stockinged thigh,
He winked at her and whispered,
And she gave an answering sigh.

Then they disappeared upstairs,
For an hour or maybe more.
There were bumps and shrieks and groans and cries,
And thumping on the floor.

They came down looking flustered,
And he made a brief farewell,
As I cleared up the plates and cups,
I looked, quite hard, at Nell.

The man died sometime later,
Of a Dollis Hill disease,
It was fungus on his glasses
That brought him to his knees.

Later on they read his Will,
The story of his life.
‘Crap jam, crap tea,’ my ‘mention’ said
‘… but quite a pleasant wife!’

Back to spoken