Due to commenter Wilt reblogging my latest Facts post, his remarks including the word ‘barrel’, and my tendency to be near the bottom of one prising up any remaining crud, the following words rearranged themselves into a couple of verses in my head.
Wordplay and absurdity are his weapons of choice – drop in to O4FS (stands for Oh, for Frank’s sake) and let him give you both barrels.
I think he meant barrel as in a shotgun but I went with the big empty wooden type.
Barrels and Boots
A man was looking into
The bottom of a barrel
His head was far inside
Not looking after his apparel
A passing shifty tailor
Who sold cheap three-piece suits
Saw the man’s feet waggling
And quickly pinched his boots
Our scrounger was so shocked
From the edge he fell right in
Where he found a long dead pigeon
And some ‘Nitroglycerin’
It was dark there at the bottom
So he struck a match to see
They’re still cleaning up some bits of him
But his boots look nice on me