‘Come fix me lawnmower,’ the greying publican said.
The young, dark haired buck toiled all day,
His hairy chest scorched by the sun that May.
‘Now, I need my lawnmower this year, not next year! Fix it for me and I’ll get you a beer.’
After stripping it down and building back up,
The young buck called brusquely for a cup.
Opening the cap, he could see,
That the little tank was truly empty.
He called to the Landlord and stated quite clear, ‘There is no fuel,’
So, the neighbours could hear. Without hesitation, the older man sucked his lip,
And gave his answer straight off the hip,
‘Now, that was the problem last year!’