I just realised that I've hardly posted at all this year, (not that I was overly prolific last year in fairness). So, rather than start adding new writing I've decided to put up another poem I discovered many moons ago. This was in the same book as the hippopotamus poem posted previously. I'm sure there was some worthwhile lesson being taught in this school book but the 'only' thing I learnt from it was how much fun words can be. The poem is titled 'The Bath' and I think the reason it resonated with me was that I had a 'maiden aunt' who fit the role perfectly.
Broad is the gate and wide the path
That leads man to his daily bath;
But ere you spend the shining hour
With sponge and spray, with sluice and show'r,
With all that teaches you to dread
The bath as little as your bed;
Remember, whosoe'er you be
To shut the door and turn the key.
I had a friend a friend no more;
Who failed to bolt the bathroom door.
A maiden aunt of his, one day,
Walked in as half submerged he lay,
But did not notice nephew John
And turned the boiling water on!
He had no time, or even scope,
To camouflage himself with scope,
But gave a yell, and flung aside
The sponge 'neath which he sought to hide;
It fell to earth I know not where.
He beat his breast in deep despair,
And then, like Venus from the foam,
Sprang into view and made for home.
His aunt fell fainting to the ground.
Alas! They never brought her round.
She died intestate in her prime,
The victim of another's crime,
And John can never quite forget
How, by a breach of etiquette,
He lost at one fell swoop (or plunge)
His aunt, his honour and his sponge.