Butchery

The doctor’s had a heart attack, The lollipop lady’s got RSI, Couldn’t risk holding her wrist too slack In case her stick got stolen by a passer-by. Still, at least she’s better off than poor Doreen Who got hit by a Ford Fiesta reversing around a corner; Oh it was awful, you should have seen, I wish we’d had time to warn her. The butcher watched from his front door, Helpless, he just muttered: “poor sod”, But a secret part was intrigued by the gore – He could be the new Sweeny Todd. Repulsed such a thought had crossed his mind, He returned to his shop from the street; He questioned how he could be so vulgar, unkind, While bludgeoning pieces of meat.