Full of fear, little light,
For the Sun, it had long ago set,
When a lone, dark figure - I'd never met -
With his hat pulled down,
And his mouth set in frown,
And out of it uttered,
"I'm that Nutter,
They call me Sir Peanut Butter".
"Oh hello, how are you, a cup of tea?
Do you want to read my book?"
I stammered and I shook,
He must have noticed how I looked.
Out came nonsense, a gibbering wreck,
And then he grabbed me around the neck:
"Please cease, please cease,
Before I call the police" said I,
As he shook me to and fro.
And then he, in deep voice he deep mutter,
"I'm that nutter, I'm in woe,
You see, I like
To play with dolls you know".
"Do you like dolls?" he quivered,
All in anticipation.
"Oh yea, oh yea", I answered
With a little too much elation.
"Have you got any on you?
A Barbi Doll maybe?
If you have we can sit down here,
Until we're called for tea".
"I have not any on me Sir,
I'm sorry, I really am,
I'll do anything, absolutely anything -
If you leave me as I am".
So on that walk, to enjoy the plan had been that night,
I ended up spending it with a man entitled Barbara Wainwright.
He adorned me in silk, linen, and lace,
And said "Just call me the Human Race".
At least I live to tell the tale,
Although I've still got red toenails.
I've scrubbed and scrubbed,
To get them clean,
And the whole sorry episode
Has made me mean -
Mean in a tough and hardened way,
Not with a purse, being camp and gay.
So for all those folk yet to meet Sir Peanut Butter,
Take heed, carry your doll, and remember do not stutter.
For if he sees any distress and dread of which to devour,
You may change your name to Barbi,
And twirl your skirt among the flowers.
29 August 2000 (Revised version of earlier verse, with Post Script added at later date)
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