The morning after the night before

Good morning my daughter,

Fred’s under his house,

As cute, as coy

As quiet as a mouse,

If you ask he will tell you

He has a sore a….,

From yesterday’s bruising

At Bass-in-the -Grass.   

He wasn’t quiescent

No, not at all,

He let down his hair 

And had a real ball!

Chief Organiser Giles

Was moved to say “sh.t”,

When he saw that our Fred,

Was in the Mosh Pit.

Hundreds of hands

Heaved him high – and it’s fair,

To say he was zeppelin-like

In turbulent air.

They tossed him and caught him

Till with a thump,

They let him fall

With a terrible bump!!

The ground trembled and shook …

Fred stuck in the crater,

Askew and dishevelled

A sorry potata,

He told all about it

It’s true to say, 

An otherwise quiet senior

‘Lived’ yesterday.