Beware! The hens are flocking for a party

THE hens are out: look round; beware Although it’s early evening still They’ve much to celebrate this night With men to chase and booze to swill. They’ve matching T-shirts, headbands, too, All stamped with pictures of the bride, Their heels are high, so is their mood, They’ve nought to lose except their pride.

The town is used to hens and stags There’s nothing they’ve not seen before, The local cop turns a blind eye To drunkenness and sleaze galore. They bring their business to the clubs And pubs and bars all take their share, The A&E’s on standby for The casualties that might occur.

The first gang strides along the street. It’s early yet, their guard is down. The clicking of the mass high heels Alerts the bar staff of The Crown. They order cocktails from the card —

Ten tall Sex On The Beaches come, All down in one; the shots appear With vodka, gin, whisky and rum.

The booze has increased confidence, They move on to a small disco And, handbags down, they dance around. The music’s loud, the lights are low And gradually they break apart Find partners on the crowded floor. They drink and dance, when flirting starts They sneak outside for something more . . .

At two o’clock, the club shuts down, The last carousers stagger out.

Our hens are scattered who knows where, No sign of any thereabouts. The bride appears, holding her shoes And looks about for her best friends. She shrugs and hails a waiting cab Goes home to try and make amends.

They meet for lunch the following day For a post-mortem on the night. The bride’s fiancé is not pleased They had a most unpleasant fight. The rest all had a wicked time The parts they recall anyway Their inevitable hangover Is slowly fading through the day.

The pubs and clubs recover too They’re used to clearing up the mess. A mop and bucket does the trick All soon restored to cleanliness. The marriage will go on as planned (The groom’s night was quite bawdy, too). The stags and hens will meet in church And act as if they never knew.