Sweary Mary 

We often work for Sweary Mary,

Her favourite swear word never varies,

If faint-of-heart, do be wary,

A chat with Mary is always sweary.

“Here’s a coffee, have a seat,

How do you stand this fucking heat?

This fucking weather, I can’t breathe,

And look at all these fucking weeds!

I swear I see them fucking grow.”

That’s Sweary Mary in full flow.

“Fuck me love, It’s fucking hot,

Where’s your lunch, that all you’ve got?

This fucking weather makes me cough,

I’ve got three new tops, one on, two off.

That’s all I’ll fucking wear til autumn,

Three for two, the day I bought ‘em.”

“How much do I owe? Thanks my love,

Look behind, you’ve dropped your gloves,

Left any space in the garden bin?

Let us know when you can fit us in.”

(Something rare has just occurred -

Four whole sentences and no f-word!)

All packed up, our tools in place,

Mary fans her not-swearing face,

“Bye!” she calls with a cheery grin,

“Thanks for doing the gardening,

Looks so much better now you’ve been.

Fuck this weather, I’m going in.”

© Sarah Ogilvie 2024