title. R

name. Dougal Rea

right now. Third year studying Chemistry at the University of Edinburgh

She woke up late one Saturday,

And saw the sky, and said "I say!

You're looking pretty fucking grey,

Where is the sun, my dude?"


The thick and dreary cloud frontier

Sat heavy on the troposphere

And sulked, pretending not to hear

From such an altitude.


The woman, fuelled by vibrancy,

Still sought pathetic fallacy

And so, if you read on, you'll see,

The strangest thing ensued.


She started taking off her clothes

From tippy top to tippy toes

And struck a bold and valiant pose,

Entirely in the nude.


The scene got even more risque

When, with her features on display,

She ran outside, in light of day,

And called to all who viewed:


"I'm naked, this is me! Wahoo!

I'm beautiful, and so are you!

Come out here and get naked too,

We'll change the weather's mood!"


Her words were loud and quite sincere

But still, it wasn't really clear

If anyone around could hear

For they just stood there, glued.


Unperturbed, she bounced around,

Her bare feet smack against the ground,

Opposing everything she found

Society had tabooed


It’s quite a scary thought to think

That what comes next is set in ink,

For those who watched could hardly blink

Upon a scene so lewd.


She bent right over with a wink,

Revealing her millennial pink

And pushing forth toot - a stink -

At quite an amplitude.

Now no poetic metaphor

Has gone as far as this before,

And if we're lucky, nevermore

Will writers be so crude.


But this, the sun just couldn't stand,

And so, it pushed aside the bland

And dreary clouds to face the land

With fiery attitude.


It bellowed downward thereupon:

"Just what on Earth is going on?

All silliness, henceforth begone!

Absurdity, conclude!"