Petunia Pier
by
Cyril Fletcher
This is the tale of Petunia Pier,
Who put health salts in her boy friend's beer. 
Then one day just to pay her out 
Her boy friend, name of Percy Prout, 
Muttered 'This will stop her farce', 
And shoved some fireworks in her glass.
Poor Petunia soppy clot, said 
'Bottoms Up' And scoffed the lot.
Then lighting a fag, she murmured 'Cripes 
That was a rotten lot of swipes, 
The stuff they brew's a proper scandal 
My tummies like a Roman Candle!'
Then snorting crossly thru her snout, 
Some balls of coloured fire blew out.
Which fell around her burning bright 
And set her woolly combs alight.
At which she gave a yell of pain 
And belched out showers of golden rain. 
Then as she cried 'Oh what disgrace' 
A sound just like a squib took place 
And several crackers bobbed about 
And blew Petunia inside out. 
So Percy took her in a sack 
Round to the local village quack 
Who looked and with a puckish grin 
Said 'We'll have to blow her back agin' 
And now admits he's puzzled quite 
Just where to put the dynamite. 
The end