Wigs and Bottles
Off she went in her finery.
What colour wig would she wear today?
Which colour would she sport to display
Buying her much-needed bottle without delay?
Brown wig in the morning she did choose.
Black in the afternoon would come soon.
Blond after midday with the news,
Red wig she’d wear by the light of the moon.
Her head held high, zippy-zip
Feet knew were to go, not bereft!
Crowned today with new brown wig
She entered the corner shop on the left.
Hours later with blond wig unheeded
Again she hurriedly left the house.
Another bottle NOW was needed!
She left with new wig and change of blouse.
She would hide empty bottles galore
In the garden near bushes and trees,
Beds of flowers, and under the floor.
Could no one have saved her obvious pleas?
This sad affair was brought to an end:
She ran amok with a kitchen knife.
The alcohol drove her round the bend,
Sadly she threatened the landlady’s life.
Police found her in a neighbour’s loft,
Black wigged, dishevelled, afraid,
Cuddling her bottle ever so soft;
The demon drink sealed her fate.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Erika Seetzen-Woods.
Published on e-Stories.org on 10/01/2010.