Mojo

Enjoy this very witty poem written by Mick Westwood about his experience of trying to recapture his ‘Mojo’ with some special Indian pills!

Mojo – (Part Two!)

Having failed the first time, with those little pills, ‘of blue’,
I sent for some more, (from India), to see what a new dosage would do,
They cost five pounds for a thousand, I thought crikey I’m on a good thing,
If these work, jobs a ‘gud u’, and I can send for some more in the spring.

At first, I was cautious with dosage, recalling my errors of past,
When I ‘overdosed’ with my ‘Mojo’, and it looked like the Titanic’s mast,
So little by little I ventured, as slowly and steady I went,
Not wanting to waste, or to squander, after all, it was five pounds I’d spent.

I just took the half one to start with, but that didn’t do owt at all,
It didn’t raise its head when I got into the bed, I was going up the wall,
So I tripled the dosage the next night, and ‘bingo’ what did I see,
A smiling happy ‘Mojo’, looking up at me.

I put on some romantic music, and I gestured to my wife,
‘Come near my dear, beside me here, you know you’re the love of my life’,
She came to me, she lay with me as unveiling time came near,
What happened next did shock me badly, dear, oh dear, oh dear.

A Flautist in the orchestra was joining in the tune,
And ‘Mojo’ started swaying as if dancing at the moon,
It was if it was all human, well my darling went berserk,
Especially at the crescendo, when it did a little ‘twerk’.

And when the ‘Flautist’ finished, my ‘Mojo’ died a death,
I was quiet relieved at this, – I began to catch my breath,
For in the room was silence now, all the signals of romance were dead,
For she was reading the ‘small print’, and this is what it said:

“These pills are made from snake venom, – and will give you a night of delight,
But don’t use them where music is, because you will get a fright,
And if your ‘Mojo’ ever dances,  to the ‘charmer’s tune’,
You will find yourself forever,  ‘twerking’ at the moon! ”

So if you see me walking, funny down the street,
Sliding, weaving, snaking, and shuffling me feet,
Don’t think that I’ve gone barmy, or developed one of ‘me ills’,
I’m just getting rid of the rest of these ruddy ‘Indian pills’!

Mick
( Guess what she’s bought me for Christmas!! XX )
( Copyright Michael Westwood 2016 )