Dragged along by his wife to the theatre in town,
Alf sat back with a sceptical frown.
He didn't believe in those spirits at all,
Yet now he was here in the very front stall.
His hair well-coiffured, his shirt shouting loud,
The man on the stage cast his eye in the crowd.
It landed on Alf, whose face became red.
He avoided the gaze of the man who then said,
"There's somebody here in the very first row,
The sweet loving son of a woman named Mo.
The man Mo adores has a fat, hairy arse.
The message she sends is that all things must pass."
Alf's face transformed from deep crimson to white.
He turned and then ran from the theatre in fright.
For although his mum was full of platitudes,
Alf was just eight when she'd last seen him nude.
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