• Olivia the Octogenarian Unicycle Rider
  

Olivia loved an audience that applauded loud and clear,
She had to wear her hearing aid, safe within her left ear.
Olivia was skin and bone; the saddle hurt her bott,
She suffered from hot flushes, some days she quite forgot.
Olivia was past it, no one dared to say,
Her legs she rubbed with liniment, before she worked each day.
The wig she wore was straggly; her makeup was a hoot,
Her support tights hung below her crotch, one could not call her cute.
In the wings she waited, until her tune was played,
She jumped upon her cycle, her entrance then she made.
The unicycle wobbled, as she held it with her knees,
The wheel was oiled, so was she, with several G & T’s.
Halfway through her first trick, she forgot what she should do,
The hearing aid fell from her ear, and lodged inside her shoe.
In the strife her wig fell off, still her balance held,
She could not hear the audience, as their laughter welled.
Olivia saw their faces; to her they looked quite cheerful,
As she twirled she farted, it sounded quite an earful.
The audience applauded, Olivia was elated,
She did not hear the laughter; her antics had created.
The G & T’s were working; her face was beetroot red,
As she twirled in circles, the booze went to her head.
Her teeth fell out her brain went numb, Olivia was falling,
Give it up you’ve had your day, the audience were calling.
She thought they shouted encore, as she fell upon the stage,
Her performing days were ending, she must turn another page.
It was Olivia’s swansong; she is more than saddle sore,
Now resting in an old folk’s home, her knees will clench no more.
So when you’re over eighty, give up your unicycle,
Your fans won’t give you real applause; they will just extract the Michael.

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