There isn't a panto poem this year
I've found it too much of a chore
So what the heck am I doing here
On this chair, where I've been before

We've put on the story of Goldilocks
But nobody fell off the stage
Though Pughie of course had on his white socks
And often got into a rage

The knife-throwing scene was amazing
But we could have got into a mess
If the script had called for him to bend over
While wearing that Indian dress

Nick and Gareth were very hot
But they showed all of us at a glance
That Wilson, Keppel and Betty, they're not
As we watched them do their sand dance

A clown, a buffoon and Tarzan too
At this next rhyme I might have a dashski
With the able assistance of our girl Su
He dove in to make a Great Splashski

Our Meurig as ever, proved up to his role
And that leopard skin showed us his knees
But his greatest legacy to haunt my soul
Will be, " The keys are in the trees"

And coming to Su, once more she would show
She can take any part in a flash
She wanted to be Von Trappem you know
Or more likely Madame Whiplash

She played plain Penny, a spinsterish frump
Dressed up to the neck and with glasses
One sip of that potion and she became
The sexiest of all the lasses

A role of a gypsy named Romany Rose
And Allison played it more large
But try as I might, I can't seem to find
In my garden a clump of borage

She gave it her all, which we all admired
Though THIS year there was no show of legs
But I do ask myself, with a voice so inspired
Why on earth is this girl selling pegs