Unreasonable behaviour this part of I am,
Is silly, impetuous, unworldly, but damn!
It’s honest and true and a little bit crazy,
Flighty sometimes but never quite flaky
Enough to be daft to the point of plain stupid.
Like being a bit tipsy or speared by wee Cupid.
A tiny bit mental, a tad giggly too,
But it balances the serious, so that’s what I do.
Those folk who know me would testify
That I’m perfectly balanced, four out of five.
The one fifth I’m not is when fantasy’s in flow
Or I’m drunk as a skunk, a pity I know,
But delightfully daring to release the repressive.
Preferable to being much too depressive.
No mania here for I’ve read all about it,
I’m just me, can’t you see, a bit foolish, don’t doubt it.
But only at weekends when I’m in full flight
And mind’s in the clouds. I know, yes, it’s right
That others may think I might be an ass,
But, bugger, I’m honest to the point that I laugh
When things that I say bite me on the bum,
I deal with it, accept it, I blush then succumb
To reasonable behaviour once more in mid-week.
Weekends are for weird, I find as I speak.
No wonder my family think maybe there’s several,
Wife, mother, teacher and a bit of a devil.
Like a youth in my mind two days in the week,
So shoot me, but believe the words that I speak.
A little bizarre on the pan that is light
Lifts up my spirits then so I might
Return to the normal, the perfectly plain
The worker, wife, mother, balanced again.
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