HALF

There was a bingo caller’s hole
In the middle of her forehead
Where her single eyeball rolled
Until eventually florid,
And her weathered vest was served
By a solitary nozzle
Whose measured dress was curved
To hold her only elbow’s jostle.

A lonesome socket loitered
In the centre of her pelvis
Where the sole hip rocket jointed
Hopped and swivelled more than Elvis,
And one trouser leg was anchored
Over half a pair of gaiters
That aroused a keg of thankyous
From the patrons and the waiters.