Poem -

THE MUSEUM

THE MUSEUM

Get your artefacts right, the snooty curator said;
my friend worked at The British Museum, management,
not a security guard, occupation may be too hard,
just standing there, looking at a bust of the old bard.

Then there's the night, things creaking, blinking,
someone coming down a rope, robbery I'm thinking,
a knight's visor snaps shut, lucky finger wasn't caught,
sure I heard something - should have gone to 'Specsavers.'

Occasionally, we have The Crown Jewels for a clean,
to return the Koh-I-Nor diamond would just be mean;
somebody lost their 'Marbles,' Elgin variety that is,
can't have them back - beware of Greeks bearing gifts.

That old friend of mine had been digging in Turkey,
to return to all of this debacle was another story.

 
 

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