Stan Laurel
011ie gone, the heavyweight Balletic chump, and now His turn to bow out, courteous, A perfect gentleman who Tips his hat to the nurse Or would, that is, if he were Still in business. She Adjusts his pillow, smooths The sheets until their crisp- And-even snow-white starchiness Becomes his cue. It's time For one last gag, the stand-up Drip-feed: Sister, Let me tell you this I wish I was skiing, And she, immaculately cornered For the punch-line: Really Mr Laurel, do you ski? A chuckle— No, hut I'd rather I was doing That than this, Than facing death, the one Fine mess he's gotten into That he can't get out of Though a nurse's helpless laughter Is the last he hears.
John Mole