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"pilkington" poems
The ugliest woman that ever was born was called Margery Pilkington-Brown. If a monkey was born half as ugly as that they would certainly have it put down. Her head was as bald as a billiard ball, yet the hair on her chin was quite long. For a girl to be cursed with a whiskery beard was, in anyone’s thinking, quite wrong Mrs Pilkington cried, “Nurse, please take it away. It’s a miniature monster from hell.” “Put a bag on its head,” said the nurse, with a wave, “If you need a supply, ring the bell.” So Mrs P stayed for a month and a day ‘Till they told her, quite firmly, to go. The nurse sympathised with a rolling of eyes as she packaged the Lady-Shave Pro. “Oh, what a disgrace when they look at her face and they see she’s a hideous brute?” “We’ll give you a bag with a hole in the top. You can hide her away in the boot.” So Mrs P left with a feeling of dread planning what she could do with the sprog. She drove to a wood at the edge of the park and left Margery under a log. “That’s a terrible thing that you’re doing,” he growled. Mrs P jumped a mile or two. The Park-Keeper peered at the face in the bag. “Can’t you find it a home at the zoo?” Downhearted, she took little Margery home to a cupboard, until it was night. She couldn’t risk anyone catching a glance of poor Margery’s face in the light. When Mr P saw his new daughter he scowled, “God Almighty, my dear, what is that? Has it crawled from a stone in the corner of hell, or been dragged from a hole by the cat?” “It’s our baby, dear heart,” cried a hurt Mrs P, in a trice, feeling rather endeared. “She may not be nice, but she’s our flesh and blood with my feet and your belly and beard.” “Well, yes, I suppose with her seventeen toes and a nose that could open a tin, she is rather unique in a curious way and we’re blessed that she isn’t a twin. She’s ours, as you say. We can’t give her away So she’ll stay as a Pilkington – Brown. We’ll  give her a shave and a hat with a brim And avoid going into the town.”
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
shirleyB
Margery Pilkington - Brown - Part 1
The ugliest woman that ever was born was called Margery Pilkington-Brown. If a monkey was born half as ugly as that they would certainly have it put down. Her head was as bald as a billiard ball, yet the hair on her chin was quite long. For a girl to be cursed with a whiskery beard was, in anyone’s thinking, quite wrong Mrs Pilkington cried, “Nurse, please take it away. It’s a miniature monster from hell.” “Put a bag on its head,” said the nurse, with a wave, “If you need a supply, ring the bell.” So Mrs P stayed for a month and a day ‘Till they told her, quite firmly, to go. The nurse sympathised with a rolling of eyes as she packaged the Lady-Shave Pro. “Oh, what a disgrace when they look at her face and they see she’s a hideous brute?” “We’ll give you a bag with a hole in the top. You can hide her away in the boot.” So Mrs P left with a feeling of dread planning what she could do with the sprog. She drove to a wood at the edge of the park and left Margery under a log. “That’s a terrible thing that you’re doing,” he growled. Mrs P jumped a mile or two. The Park-Keeper peered at the face in the bag. “Can’t you find it a home at the zoo?” Downhearted, she took little Margery home to a cupboard, until it was night. She couldn’t risk anyone catching a glance of poor Margery’s face in the light. When Mr P saw his new daughter he scowled, “God Almighty, my dear, what is that? Has it crawled from a stone in the corner of hell, or been dragged from a hole by the cat?” “It’s our baby, dear heart,” cried a hurt Mrs P, in a trice, feeling rather endeared. “She may not be nice, but she’s our flesh and blood with my feet and your belly and beard.” “Well, yes, I suppose with her seventeen toes and a nose that could open a tin, she is rather unique in a curious way and we’re blessed that she isn’t a twin. She’s ours, as you say. We can’t give her away So she’ll stay as a Pilkington – Brown. We’ll  give her a shave and a hat with a brim And avoid going into the town.”
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