BARN DANCE (PROGRESSIVE)
For the uninitiated, when a dance is called a Paul Jones it means it becomes progressive; that is, you pass your partner on to the next gentleman in front of you and inherit the partner of the gentleman behind you. This is what used to pass for dogging.
We started at seven with everything fine
The Old People’s dance would be over by nine
We were lovely and cuddly, wise and benign
It was Christmas and things were so festive
No reason for it to get restive.
But the signs were all there when they brought out the tea
(You all get your cuppa and biscuit for free)
But the shit hit the fan when old Mrs McGee
Who is a chocolate obsessive
Took two McVities Digestives.
The baking was done by two local nuns
Mr Singh was admiring their fresh Sally Lunns
When he said that he’d like to nibble their buns
We thought he was being suggestive
The atmosphere turned to oppressive.
And then when the Barn Dance became a Paul Jones
Reverend Tomlinson caused a few moans
Refusing to pass on that fastcat Ramone
But danced with her twice successive
Which everyone thought was excessive.
Then young Mrs Tomlinson she waded in
(Who never left home without a large gin)
And caught her a pearler square on the chin
They said that the dance was progressive
It turned out more like aggressive.
And all of us thought that it was a bit much
When Florence’s hand grazed Mr Green’s crutch
We certainly thought it a feel not a touch
His smile was very expressive
It seemed her grip was compressive.
Then Mrs Green sprang from her cart by the wall
And keening a war cry entered the brawl
The Barn Dance resembled a scrum or a maul
Her rucking was very impressive
But scarcely Christian or festive.
So round about eight the police would appear
And so that will be that until the next year
For a bunch of Old Gits and senile Old Dears
Far from dreary depressives
For Old Codgers you’ll find us impressive.