A mystery solved.
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The Ayatollah’s disappeared:
It’s just as all his friends have feared;
But where he’s gone to none can tell,
My guess is though it’s down to Hell.
He’s with his wives and mullah chums:
They’re sitting there with burning bums.
He’s asking, “What on earth was that
For goodness sake that knocked me flat?”
“It must have been those bloody Jews—
I guess we’ll read it on the news.
I really they wish they hadn’t come:
It bloody hurts, my bloody bum!”
Just then the demons bring the tea:
It tastes of moldy camel pee.
“Oh dear,” he sighs, “not this as well!”
Then notices the roasting smell.
His bum’s on fire! It’s all ablaze!
He tries recalling happier days;
But sadly, nothing works for him—
Eternity is looking grim!
He pours the tea upon his bum:
Of all his wisdom this the sum.
But then he blames it on the Jews;
And, feeling better, has a snooze.
The poem is from the author’s unpublished work, The Bus Poems: A Tale of the Devil. His book of whimsical verse, A Chocolate Box Menagerie, is published by New English Review Press.
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