Whippet
It’s the phantom window cleaner
He’s a man who’s built for speed
You should see him cleaning windows
He’s extremely fast indeed
If you watch him climb his ladder
With his squeegee and his scrim
Then you will not be surprised
That there’s not too much of him
He won’t slow down his pace
It’s such a disconcerting habit
Like a ferret up a pipe, or
A whippet, chasing rabbit
But wait till Friday night
When he is serving at the bar
It’s a total transformation
He’s the slowest one by far
Copyright © John Fenn | Year Posted 2011
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