Dung On a Rung
Surly Sally slipped and lost a flip flop
at a hearty party in a bungalow with Billy.
while dancing and prancing to hip hop
whirling and twirling and spinning silly.
Can you reverse and remember the flop she flipped?
Well it ludicrously landed in the party punch bowl.
Nobody noticed while they slurped and sipped
and the dancers dipped and ripped and rolled.
They dipped, danced, pranced and laughed,
pirouetted, and sweated,
tipped and turned till totally daft.
Beer and booze abetted.
The next night they stayed sober and soloed somber.
Crashing and complaining Billy’s head hung,
both believed they’d been belted by a bomber.
Surly Sally swore she felt like dung on a rung!
Let this be a lurid logical lesson,
to those who think it’s only fun and frolick to abuse booze,
Or you too could be confessin’
And for lack of the light of this litany you’re liable to lose!
An answer to a challenge for John Freeman’s Alliteration contest
by my poetry friend, Gwendolen Rix.
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