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Description
She put on her makeup, and polished her teeth,
Her heels so high, she must come to grief.
A tiny black number, unsurprisingly short,
a matching black cane with glitter for thought.

Wrinkly skin pulled back in a bun,
She looked thirty years younger, no, thirty-one!
Her grey wild curls sternly restyled,
with spray upon spray excessively piled.

Looking pretty groovy for a hundred and four,
with a skip and a flip she danced out of the door,
she cartwheeled her way straight into up-town,
and from there, she went speedily down.

Into the most happenin' club on the block,
as the chimes rang out twelve on the clock,
she winked at the bouncer and blew him a kiss,
which the poor fella ran miles to miss.

She headed out dancing onto the floor,
straight away teens ran *drunk* for the door,
such a wild dance never seen before,
they don’t make gam's like that anymore.

After the song finished she went for a drink,
Out fell her teeth with a ‘clunk’ and a ‘clink’.
Into her beer, the guys stared in wonder,
As Kelly picked them out and tossed them asunder.

Gummy gal Kelly was quite the flirt,
Blinking her lashes, and smoothing her skirt,
For sure, the victorian chick still has ‘it’
She tongue tied the guys with her sewing travel kit.

But when it struck one, Kelly had to fly,
With forty phone numbers (and kisses good-bye)
She leapt her way home, to bed to go,
For those old folks get up early you know.