An Irish Hussar

by | Jan 1, 2006 | Poetry | 0 comments

An Irish Hussar
sat alone at the bar
drinking his favorite drink,
when a girl came to him
with a childish young grin
and a look that would tame a live mink.

She came up to him
And he knew she’d give in
If he bought her a large gin and tonic
So he left it to fate
She said ere listen mate
Ain’t you that guy on TV wot’s bionic

He thought oh here we go
But then she’s not to know
That I’m not the real Steve Austin
So he started ‘plan B’,
Put his hand on her Knee,
And he thought just how much she could cost him

When he bought her a drink
His heart started to sink
As she downed it in one and looked thirsty
So he started plan B.
Put his hand on her knee
And she told him her name, it was Kirsty

Then she wanted to go,
Someplace he didn’t know,
So he took her in his Morris minor
And on the way there
She sat combing her hair
He believed he had seen nothing finer

But the end was real quick
And it made him right sick
As he ran head-on into a bus
Not only I guess
Coz his car was a mess
But his Mum; she would make such a fuss.


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