That summer in England was a bit of a lie
Two days in June and three in July
August a joke, September was worse
Even the saintly muttered and cursed
~
Norman, blessed with money he’d won
On a flea bitten nag at two hundred to one
Escaped from the misery, the murk, and the rain
Took his knees for a touch up in Spain
~
Dark eyed Senorita's, the wine and the Pizza’s
Set his testosterone up to a dangerous rate
He drowned his ardour in ten pints of lager
Set his sights on acquiring a mate
~
The nightly dance would be his main chance
Of love, and all he could wangle
On his chest, stuck on hair, his nipp’s laid bare
Round his neck, a medallion, left to dangle
~
He spotted her there on a bar side chair
His randy heart thumping with passion
Shy and demure, full of beckoning allure
Supping brandy, like it was going out of fashion
~
They waltzed and they tangoed
Jived and Fandangoed
On leaving she slipped him a note
"Heaven for thee, waits in room twenty three
Don’t worry about wearing a coat"
~
He opened the door at twenty past one
Slipped into the bed to sample some fun
Oh! God wrong door, wrong bed, wrong dame
‘Wow! This is a surprise but I’m glad that you came’
~
“Dear boy please don’t go
I’ll slip out of my nightie
Though I’m past eighty three
You’ll find me quite sprightly”
~
Well, we best leave it there
There is no more to tell
But isn’t a voice sighing
“Aw shucks, what the hell”