In Her Copper Coloured Wig
A respectable girl was she; or so she appeared to be
Living alone in her dear little cottage at number seventy three
Each day she left home bright and early, as she walked to the railway station
Awaiting the train she would ponder upon her total transmogrification
Travelling first class to London, dressed in a suit and leather brogues
She was the picture of respectability, but nobody really knows
Heading straight for the club in Soho, where she was paid to perform
Descending the stairs, she took a deep breath, as she completely transformed
Into a girl named Sinitta, where dirty old men queued to meet her
She danced with seven fans and with carefully positioned hands
In her copper coloured wig, for she had nothing else to hide behind
Dancing in a trance, she would escape to her unconscious mind
She danced her eyes shut tightly, giving a zombie like display
Her only way of getting through the dance each working day
Whilst traveling home she calculated monies she would earn
For she had reached her breaking point; it was the point of no return
All monies that she’d earnt so far, went to support her dearest Ma
In the best asylum she could find; for sweet dear souls who’d lost their mind
Written 31st October 2018
Contest No 512
Sponsor Brian Strand
1st placement
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