A funny thing happened the other day, but I missed it.
Troy fell again
It barely got a mention
With all that was going on
What with the weather changing
The permanent fishy smell
The limping gormless misfit
As a ballerina in transition
from one side to other there is one question
I get asked above all others
And that is
‘Have you met with much resistance?
I can say hand on heart
‘Little’ without fearful contradiction
But I care not a jot in my summer frock