A GRAVE SITUATION
by Claude Morris When I staggered away from my favourite pub, The night was dark and still, And I thought I'd take a shortcut home That led over Cemetery Hill. Now I'm not a hero as everyone knows, And I have no reckless trends, But ghosts and the like leave me cold, as it were, And spirits and I are old friends. I wobbled along through the cemetery gates, Begging my legs to behave, And everything went pretty well, so I thought, Till I fell down a newly-dug grave. For a moment I thought I had landed in hell, And ended my earthly career, I sniffed like a hound for the sulphurous fumes, Expecting Old Nick to appear. But reason returned and I staggered erect, My prison so dark, to survey, And tested my bones for a fracture or two, But everything functioned O.K. I made a feeble attempt to get out, But it needed no more than a glance To convince me, in my condition, I hadn't the ghost of a chance. I reckoned I'd have a lay-off for a while, And when I woke sober and fit I'd surely come up with a good idea That would get me out of the pit. Just then I could hear fast oncoming steps That seemed too good to be true, But ere I could 'Coo-ee' or offer advice, In the grave there were suddenly two! By chance, he fell in the grave's other end, With no one to cushion his fall; But he rose with a strangled yelp, And attempted to scale up the wall. This chap was at pains to be up and away, As the capers he cut plainly told. He jumped and scrambled and jumped again, But his fingers and toes wouldn't hold. I hadn't yet spoken -- I'd hardly a chance, The way he cavorted about, And I had to admire the way that he fought To sever all ties and get out. Of course he believed there was nobody near; He thought he was there all alone. And I got the idea it had entered his head That the grave was becoming his own. I felt rather sad for the poor little guy Now acting a little distraught, And I thought he'd relax if I gave him the drum That he wasn't alone, as he thought. So I walked up behind him and tapped on his back As he poised for another wild bid: "You can't make it, Mate," I breathed in his ear -- But by the Lord Harry... he DID!
The end