Joe and Ethel Leghorn-Jones,
Bought a boy with personal loans,
Did their deed at dead of night,
Kept their bundle out of sight.
But Mrs J, she wept with joy,
When she beheld her birthday boy,
And her husband, strong and kind,
Thanked the Lord for ties that bind.
Little Barclay, known as Lloyd,
Filléd up their empty void,
They bought him toys from shops in Seaton,
Put his name straight down for Eton.
But then one day a dark cloud came,
To blight poor Jones and his fair dame,
A letter landed in their hall,
Its contents surely did appal.
Son, they said, you are our pride,
So a secret we'll confide,
Cash is tight, and we confess,
The bank, dear son, must repossess,
So pack your case, it's not your fault,
You'll like your life in the bank vault.
Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved