A chair leg

stands beneath an arse

enduring scrapes

and endless farts

 

It is the cornerstone

of rest

forever subject

to weight and stress

 

In some respects

it’s just like you

it bears the load

it has to do

 

But if it creaks

and one day falls

the chair it holds

is bugger all

 

And all the

arse that ever sat

upon its strength

lands on the mat

 

If you’re a chair leg

feeling weak

don’t hold back your

inner squeak

 

squeak and groan

then squeak some more

they’ll move you to

a corridor

 

Where you can watch

the fat arsed pass

and find yourself

some peace at last