An uncle painted inside his house
But caused my aunt to faint.
He'd just been a little bit careless
As some flies had gone an t'paint.
"I cannot see what all the fuss is about,
They've only gone on t'shelf.
Anyone would think who heard you
That I'd put them there myself!"
My aunt, she ran upstairs and cried,
And then she blew her stack.
My uncle was too soft with her
And should have given her a smack!
My uncle, he'd a rotten life,
He was treated like "Richard Bucket".
He had never got the nerve,
To tell her to go and "stuff it"!
Plenty men subjected to this abuse
Would their wives they'd throttle.
She never allowed him to even have one beer,
So therefore, he had no "bottle".
My aunt eventually did peg out
Right triumphs, as you see.
My uncle now can safely say:
"You'll find no flies on me!" By B Howarth
Alexandria Drive
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