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!