I once had a yellow microphone,
That when you switched it on,
It gobbled up the words you said,
And made them come out wrong.
If you said "how are you?"
It wouldn't stay the same;
It would come out,
"You SMELL of bottom cracks!" then,
Leave you to take the blame.
I once know this girl who was nasty,
Quite snobby and big-headed too;
And I let her borrow my microphone,
(Without telling her what it would do.)
She used it at a family funeral,
And in front of a hundred dour guests,
She stood gravely up at the pulpit and said:
"Dear friends, our Aunt Agnes rests..."
A touching remark to be certain,
The congregation felt likewise I'm sure...
Or, they would have, if thatβs how theyβd heard it,
Instead of,
βI just WEED on the FLOOR!"
Gasps echoed round the
Church benches,
As the aisles hissed with cross whispered rants;
So she tried to say sorry - but instead it came out:
"And I've made a BIG mess in my PANTS!"
The mayhem that followed was frightening;
They screamed out for her to "do right",
So she blessed the departed,
Which came out "I've farted!"
Then turned on her heels and took flight.
I never got back what she borrowed,
It was lost in the ruckus and din...
So watch out for odd yellow microphones,
That never let out what goes in.
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