One day in August Frank met Flora,
A ballerina who could bore a
Donkey's hind legs off with ease
And tranquillise the donkey's fleas.

Despite her quite enormous height
He fell in love on their first sight.
His love did not stay unrequited
Even though she tried to fight it.

She surrendered to his charms,
Which shone and screamed like car alarms.
Other women ran a mile
But she could only stare and smile.

Their love was peppered with real hate.
From heaven's door to hell's black gate
Was just a step, a skip, a trip.
He feared he'd lose his mental grip.

On holiday he nearly died.
She pushed him down a mountainside,
And he survived an avalanche
By biting through a crunchy branch.

After saying he would leave her
He found employment as a beaver.
He made home-made furniture.
Her attempts to burn it were

Thwarted by a clever dog
Who's good at posing as a log.
Frank used only ancient tools.
Teeth and fingernails made stools.

Through blinding talent, grit and graft
He made a fortune from his craft.
After selling his old car he
Bought a shiny new Ferrari.

But still he felt alone and sad.
People thought he must be mad
When Frank and Flo were re-united.
He felt happy, cursed and blighted.

She felt blessed and joyless too.
She sighed her face a shade of blue.
He thought that love, despite its strife,
Would doom them to a married life,

Just like a horse who kicks and bites
And neighs maniacally at kites,
And pulls a speeding burning carriage.
She wouldn't give her hand in marriage.

She only gave two fingers and
She made use of her other hand
To push him backwards down a hill.
He played Jack and she was Jill.

He spent the next year far from harm,
Growing turnips on a farm.
But still he missed his one true love
Sent to him from God above,

With input from the beast below,
To make his soul-mate in his foe.
Their fling was not quite finished yet.
At a turnip show they met.

He proposed again and she
Said 'yes' with undiluted glee.
He smiled as if he'd found his grail.
He wagged his head's brown bushy tail.

In her first duty as a wife
She cut it off with a carving knife.
His tail, that is. Not his head.
It should be said she's great in bed.