The Penguin

This was written in 1981 and recorded in 2017.

"How we laughed at the big, fat man
Who walked like a pregnant duck
And looked like a pregnant penguin
Down on his penguin luck.

Engrossed and waddling down the street
With his Penguin paperback,
He didn't see the banana skin,
Coiled up like a tiger's spring,
Waiting to attack.

A horizonal penguin,
Six feet in the air,
Hanging by an invisible string
Attached to his pubic hair,
Was the funniest thing I ever did see,
Or ever could visualise,
I laughed, I laughed so much it hurt
And almost split my sides.

And when he fell flat on his big, fat bum
And bounced like a big fat, ball,
We howled and spluttered and wet ourselves,
We were gone beyond recall.

We laughed even more when he tried to get up
'Cos his belly was in the way.
I'll remember him huffing
And big, fat puffing
Until my dying day.

He shouted for help as we cackled and danced,
It was all a game to us
And, when the ambulance and bobbies arrived,
We wondered at all the fuss.

They all gathered round the big, fat man,
Then they covered him with sheet,
They covered him from the top of his brylcreemed head
To the tip of his flippery feet.

Then one of them turned and pointed,
To where we, white-faced, were stood
And that bobby's accusing finger
Was enough to freeze the blood..."