Bong Bagatelle

Some perfectly harmless fun, for a change.

People from Bengal
are ever in thrall
of my fluid ease with their tongue.
In my speech withal
there’s nothing at all
to show whence it had sprung.

I laugh away
the compliment and say
I’ve lived a mean decade:
but being gay
persistent pests, they
see a masquerade.

And then someone winks
and says “Methinks
there’s more to this than that!
There are chinks
(in fact it stinks),
it’s glib, and much too pat!”

For truth to tell
(I know them well)
they’re looking for some juicy tale:
the local belle
for whom I fell…
(that’s uncannily on the nail!)

They’re right of course,
those piscivores –
it’s all that damn mustard!
So I tell those bores
to ship their oars,
and leave this fish unflustered.

***