Another leg, another doggerel,
a brief revisit to Gina's Tour Countdown thread.
Please note: as always, Stewart, if we shadows here offend -- well --
blame Animal for putting the thought into my head.
But as the rest of the world has been so patient,
they too deserve a few crappy verses to be said.
*****
Yo, Stewart! Yes, you, you lazy sod.
It’s time to get off your ass!
The Europeans are waiting.
Pity the pinings they’ve amassed.
As I’ve said, I hope you’ve enjoyed
quality time during your respite.
But truly, Stewart, pity not only Europe
but those poor ladies with whom you cohabit.
By now the long-suffering Fiona
must indeed have had her fill
of hearing about fans and flags and bands
and drums and stadiums and what you will.
There’s really only so much a spouse can take;
many significant others know the score:
when she smilingly nods and agrees with you,
it means she’s not listening anymore.
By now that loving household,
once a scene of domestic bliss,
has likely returned to All Systems Normal,
with the poor dear forced to say such things as this:
“When you’re not here, the girls are calm,
each one as quiet as a mouse!”
“I’m going to burn those nasty headbands
you’ve got strewn around the house.”
“Yes, I know your gong’s a big one.
Now can you please run down to the store?”
“Are your pillaging arms so tired
you can’t pick your socks up off the floor?”
“No, the teapot’s not a tom-tom, and
my fine blue china’s not your ride.”
“Don’t even ask for that for dinner;
Sting put the kibosh on all things fried.”
In addition, think of the children,
that pitter-pattering little crew,
who need new clothes and toys and supplies
as it is almost Back to School.
Which means that homework help will beckon;
they’ll wish to draw wisdom from the fount.
But whether New Math or Old Math –- no matter --
We all know drummers cannot count.
With spelling you’re of no help to them
if even in “Dietmar” you can’t grasp “I before E.”
(I’m giving you a mnemonic gift here, Stewart,
so be ready to use it when you hit Germany.)
Before you fill your kids’ heads with errors
and your wife has you sleeping in the garage,
think of it as only charitable
for you to get the hell out of Dodge.
Time to return to Police Pampering,
where it’s encouraged to lift a finger not a mite.
Nice work if you can get it,
clocking in two whole billable hours each night.
(Now, now, Stewart -- put down the smite.)
One more week, and it’s back to work for you.
Those drums just won’t play themselves.
It’s back to planes and trains and hotel rooms,
sycophants, minions, press, and elves.
Plus there are all those anxious masses
with their eccentric European ways.
The Second Coming’s second coming
arrives in only 6 MORE DAYS!!!