ATM Blues
Why does it take them so long?
Woke up this morning, and what did I find?
My fridge was empty — no beer no wine.
I felt in my pockets and found fifty p -
Not even enough for a nice cup of tea.
I pulled on my coat and strolled into town
To get some money — say twenty pounds
And when I arrived at the ATM
Two women were there — I stood behind them.
One stuck her card in, then messed with her hat,
Put in her PIN code — paused for a chat.
A queue behind me began to form.
She smeared her lips with pink lip balm.
And then she remembered why she was there
She pressed some buttons, messed with her hair,
Removed her card and her money too.
I looked behind me — a longer queue.
But now the other one searched in her purse,
Pulled out her card — and I gave a curse,
For she was slower, and it didn’t help
That she kept chatting — I wished up she’d belt.
She collected her money — hurray, hurray -
But seemed to me she’d be there all day
‘Cos she took out her card then put it back in.
I couldn’t believe it — she forgot her PIN.
I stood there thinking while those two yakked,
This takes me seconds — eighteen, in fact.
How could it take them so blasted long?
The queue behind me was now a throng.
She seemed confused — tapped keys again.
I groaned and shuffled and that is when
Some gory pictures swam in my head;
One thing in common — those two were dead.
By axe by arrow, by sword or gun
By knife or poison — gosh, this was fun
Their bloody bodies lay in a heap…
My dreams were stopped by a little bleep.
They’d got their money — at last, at last
And now they were leaving. I stepped in fast -
But someone pushed in — caught me off-guard
A doddering old chap with a debit card!
And now read Harper’s hilarious response:
