The Pfizer advisor is a miserable old miser,
But there is no-one who’s wiser on vaccines.
The Pfizer advisor has a wife who’s much nicer,
And her favourite restaurant is Maxine’s.
She dresses with passion in the latest of fashion,
And she wouldn’t be seen dead in Targét.
But her husband, the advisor (who advises on Pfizer),
Would shop there for his clothes any day.
She dines upon pâté, caviar and rosé,
Never would a sausage and sauce past her lips.
But he prefers the latter on a plate or a platter,
With no thought of what goes onto his hips.
He likes to get up to blab about getting the jab
To explain what is too much or too little;
In the left arm, the right arm, how to do it with no harm,
Because he knows it can’t be had in the middle.
If having the jab isn’t easy and it makes you feel queasy
And there’s a better solution you seek,
You can display plenty of class if you take it in the arse
And you can choose either left or right cheek.
Gordon Nightingale is a local author and poet and is the convenor of the Daylesford U3A Writers’ Circle.