Halloween Fancy Dress Party
There was a young man called BS
Who was desperate to fit in this dress
But try as he might
The waist was too tight
So he settled for Grandma's string vest
The poor boy knew all the while
That he was not known for his sense of style
So he thought he would see
Just how it would be
To dress fancy and stand out a mile
The dress discarded he felt
That the vest it needed a belt
To tuck in and disguise
From questioning eyes
That which nature had dealt
A while it took to decide
The right pair of contrasting strides
Tartan he thought
Since the mini he'd bought
Left little to pamper his pride
So his trews all sorted and worn
And his vest strategically torn
He raised a glass in each hand
A completed man
Praying for feminine scorn.
