Roll up for tumbling tightrope Romeo . . .

Malcolm the tightrope walker would set your heart aglow, Magnificent in his leotard with his fetlocks all on show. He strutted round the circus ring, while everybody lusted And one unlucky maiden aunt spontaneously combusted. King of the funambulists, in his tights of spangled gold, He pirouetted and he preened, a wonder to behold. He was rampant! He was virile! He was licensed to excite! And he climbed up his flimsy ladder to the dizziest of heights. A drum resounded round the tent and Malcolm showed no fear As he oscillated on that rope, high in the atmosphere, And everyone was thunderstruck at the climax of his set When he skipped a light fandango and clacked his castanets. Then a sudden pandemonium filled his heart with mighty dread And a disorientated pigeon crash-landed on his head. It fluttered and it flapped and sent feathers up his nose With terrible ramifications — Malcolm teetered on his toes. There was major trepidation and gasps from all around As his ultimate destination was an awfully long way down. He lost his equilibrium as his arms and legs cartwheeled And as gravity is ruthless, his fate was duly sealed.

To compound all his problems, his leotard was rent asunder And his undercarriage was exposed to many gasps of wonder. It was a sight worth seeing, (for he had generous proportions) And he crashed into the safety net, with rather rude contortions. His wig departed from his head, he let loose a juicy curse, Then he bounced a clown on his way down and made things even worse. The audience applauded: they had never seen such action, And Malcolm’s nether regions were the main source of attraction. It’s probably just as well he’d taken leave of all his senses, When he hurtled into the orchestra pit with calamitous consequences. He had both feet in a euphonium, well, that caused mass hysteria, And he wasn’t keen on the tambourine now wedged on his posterior. Rescuers rushed to help him and untangle his mangled bits, And he got a standing ovation when he stood up and did the splits. But the malfunction of his leotard caused gentlefolk to swoon So they covered him up with a cardboard box, a bucket and two balloons. For our hero it was touch and go, then along came Naughty Nancy, She was a buxom bearded lady and she truly tickled his fancy. She anointed him with Germolene, on nasty scrapes that oozed, Put a poultice on his delicates, all painful, sore and bruised. Poor Malcolm lost his mojo, general droopiness tinged his days, But Naughty Nancy had the answer for she had many winning ways. She warmed the cockles of his heart with delectable distractions, And they lived happily ever after in a caravan in Clacton! P.S. No pigeons were harmed in the making of this poem.