My gigging partner
My dancing little sis
Jumps so much that sometimes
Outcomes a little piss.
No stopping her enjoyment
Or anyone’s around
There’s so much sweat in the fabric
That urine can’t be found.
In the mosh pit she’ll be bouncing
With people twice her size
This matters very little
Her calves are much like thighs.
They spring her up out of trouble
When the heat begins to spike
Her elbows spread like bat wings
It’s really quite the site.
This moshing behaviour
developed over many years
It began in village halls
with Irish music in her ears.
On her tippy toes
Her legs would fly up high
Taking out competitors
And low aircraft passing by.
These were the beginnings
Of legs that would see her through
Many sweaty gigs
With no need to visit the loo.