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I'm Off To The Summerland - Visitor's Funny Poem

by Richard John Scarr
(Brighton. East Sussex. England)

Don't invite me round for Christmas,
For I really couldn't stay.
'cos I'm hiding from the taxman,
who thinks I ought to pay.

But I'm a step or two ahead of him,
and I've got this cunning plan.
Instead of hiding out in Spain,
I'll push off to the Summerland.

Up there you don't need money.
And the smokes and booze are free.
And 'cos no one does a tap of work,
there's no income tax or GST.

But I'll have to blow my brains out.
Or jump off beachy head.
But beachy head's a long way down.
I'll try first off the garden shed.

Or perhaps I ought to drown myself,
that's painless so I'm told.
No- forget that, it's December,
And the water's flipping cold!

I'd dive beneath a juggernaut,
but I don't fancy that.
I saw a dog run over once,
and who wants to be that flat?

I tried to hang myself last night,
crying out: "Forgive me mum!"
But the rope I used was far too long,
and I landed on my bum.

Then I stood upon the railway track,
waiting for the half past nine.
But someone must have changed the points,
'cos it passed me on another line.

So I've bought myself a pistol,
and now I'm trying that.
I've placed the gun against my head.
Bang! I've missed myself and shot the cat!

Hang on, I've heard the postman.
That fellow's always late.
Another letter from the taxman.
What's this? A fifty pound rebate!!!

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