Whimsicality

She had a face like a fish fryer's basket, All stressed and creased and lined His like a bag of old spanners Abused, misused, misaligned. She jumped his place in the bar queue One Boozy Saturday Night Instead of taking the Hump He loved her at first sight. Two aging hippies Who’d never ever bricked it And when they met each other Felt they’d really clicked it They consummated their relationship In the yard outside the bar And once or twice more On the back seat of his car. They came down to earth together Laughing at life’s little joke Then he pulled out his baccy pouch And rolled them both a toke. Two ageing hippies who Quickly grabbed the chance To waltz their way together Through life’s oncertain dance They became a couple Saw each other more and more And when they looked at each other It was only beauty that each saw, With her face like a fish fryer’s basket All stressed and creased and lined, His like a bag of old spanners Abused, misused, misaligned