Today’s poem

I’d just got into my bed last night, Put my specs in their case, Thrown on a clean pair of bed socks And rubbed some cream on my face. Supped up the last of my cocoa, Put the cup down on the floor, Next moment, I nearly jumped out of my skin — There’s a loud bang on my front door. So I put my coat over my nightie, Timidly crept down each stair, But when I carefully opened the front door, Guess what? There was nobody there. That’s strange, I thought, climbing back upstairs And putting myself back in bed, I’m positive, certain, I heard a knock, Am I going daft in the head? So I puffed up the pillows one more time And nestled ’neath my counterpane. Would you believe it, loud as could be, Bang, bang, on the door once again. So I pulled back the curtains a fraction And into the garden I gazed. A youth had tied string to my door knocker. I was absolutely amazed. I could see him quite plain in the shrubbery, The little brat, shuffling about, I tell you — if my old man was alive, He’d have given the blighter a clout. He tugged on the string one more time And the knocker went bang on my door. I was tempted to telephone 999 And let him deal with the law. So I opened the window in anger To that youth I did shout: ‘Oi! You down there in my garden, Will you stop messing about?’ ‘It’s trick or treat, missus,’ he snarled back, ‘It’s only one night of the year. ‘Throw down some money, you silly old woman, ‘So I can buy some more beer.’ ‘Oh, I love trick or treat,’ I lied to that youth, ‘So just untie that string And I’ll get my purse from my handbag. I’m sure I’ll find you something.’ Well, my chamber pot was full to the brim. I dragged it from under the bed, And shouting out ‘Trick!’ at the top of my voice, I emptied it over his head. Les Singfield, Amlwch Port, Anglesey.