Triskaidekaphobia

A foolish lad goes too far

A dozen girls had one young buck
Some of them had to wait.
One more girl into his life snuck
He begged her for a date.
Friday (his name), such a schmuck,
She said her name was Kate.
She asked the question ‘fuzzy duck?’
And then was his soul mate;
The two of them, they ran amok
Seeking to procreate:
All taboos they did freely buck
Their passion to abate.
 
But now it was they came unstuck:
Twelve lasses, flaring glares of hate
And each armed with a hockey puck
Chased all through the estate.
The two fled in a knackered truck
They found outside a gate,
But it slid in some cowshit muck
Into a pile of slate;
And this is how they became stuck
and caught by four, then eight;
And then there was a frightful ruck
That went on until late.
 
So you can see, it is the suck
To over-interrelate;
And when they come and from it pluck
You with their moods irate,
It can’t be blamed on plain bad luck,
Nor destiny, nor fate:
 
     It’s just ever so very untidy,
          When the 13th falls for a Friday.


© 2007 Pendantry