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Where there’s a will

I love writing these monologues, because they tell a funny story, but in verse form. They work best if read aloud in a broad Yorkshire accent, but if you can’t do that, they should still make you laugh. This is one of the first ones that I ever wrote.

Photo by Frans Van Heerden on Pexels.com
You'll have heard of Albert and 'lion
At the zoo, how he poked in its ear
With 'is stick with its 'orses 'ead 'andle
And 'ow 'lion made 'lad disappear.

It was penned by one Marriott Edgar
Not sure that it's totally true
A British tradition the monologue
For telling a tall tale or two.

This then, is the story of Doris
A frail little lady from 'ull
And Joseph, her fisherman 'usband
'Andsome when younger, but dull.

When Doris met Joe in her twenties
She thought him 'a bit of a dish'
But since working away on the trawlers
All he could talk of was fish.

Sadly, Joe passed away in the Autumn
They'd been married for fifty six years
Though she'd not miss his moods, or his washing
She managed to shed a few tears.

He'd left her no money or nothing
Joe was 'ardly a millionaire
And Doris had toasted their parting
With a small glass of vin ordinaire.

What he had left her though, were a parrot
Called Polly, an African Grey
This parrot could swear like a sailor
Vocab'lary badly astray.

The bird was some comp'ny for Doris
They'd sit and they'd have a good chat
Until Doris developed arthur-itis
And the council coughed up wi' a flat.

"No pets," council lady insisted
Handing 'keys to her new maisonette
'Where there's a will, there's a way' though
So t'old lady were not too upset.

She covered Poll's cage in a blanket
And smuggled her into the flat
What with gas central 'eating and carpets
Doris treasured 'er new 'abitat.

Old 'abits die 'ard with a parrot
Who soon took to swearing again
When 'neighbours began to ask questions
Doris guessed, they were going to complain.

But, at just passed three in the morning
Doris fell out of bed, on t'floor
"Get up, get up," Poll' was squawking
As smoke trickled through 'bedroom door,

Doris weren't a girl given to panic
(The parrot were 'ighly impressed)
Pulling clothes quickly over her nightie
She rushed from the flat, barely dressed.

She managed to wake all her neighbours
The firemen brought cheering throughout
But standing there, bird cage a danglin'
Doris knew that her secret were out.

The fire had been caused by her cooker.
Commented senior fireman, Paul
"Thanks to Doris's lightening reactions
The extent of the damage is small."

The neighbours rolled up their shirt sleeves
As the clean up immediately began
Elbow grease, and Fairy, (original)
Soon had Doris's flat spic and span.

Poor Doris was all of a dither
When 'council called later that day
"I'll see what I can do," said the lady
"Because, where there's a will, there's a way."

Guide dogs are let in by the council
From the rules, they are simply excluded
Whilst a dog for a dis-abled person
Is allowed, and expressly included.

These pooches are called 'elper canines
Doris still has her pet, to this day
It is 'ull's very first 'elper parrot
Because, "Where there's a will, there's a way."



By Hobbo

A contemporary poet with a Yorkshire sense of humour

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