The vicar saw the matron’s leg, hence
He copped an eyeful,
Perhaps it was by providence,
Or Sherry in the trifle.
Not a soul need ever know,
I wonder if his wife’ll,
Catch him by his scarlet glow,
Was Sherry in the trifle?
Standing mutely innocent,
Like the tower Eiffel,
Surely he will soon repent,
From Sherry in the trifle.
Can he find the words to speak?
Will his tonsils stifle?
Things are looking very bleak,
There’s Sherry in the trifle.
Soon his wife will end the game,
By razor blade or rifle,
I’ll bet my boots he’ll try to blame,
The Sherry in the trifle !
© Steven Smith – 29th May 2000