Perks of the Job


It ought to be annoying
That my tenant loves employing
His talents as a master of disguise.
Every "stranger", rich or poor;
Crone, priest, sailor, toff or more,
Is suspect till it's proven otherwise.
Instead of simply greeting
Hopeful guests, politely meeting
Quest or query with a calm and gracious smile;
I am filled with deep suspicion,
That it's Holmes upon a mission;
Smugly hoping to bamboozle and beguile.
The gentlemen I've shocked,
The clergy I've unfrocked,
The tradesmen I've deprived of facial hair.
The captains who've retreated
With their uniforms depleted,
And the ladies who have withered 'neath my glare.
I have gained a reputation,
And am viewed with trepidation
By the multitude who gather at my door,
But, in truth, there's satisfaction
In the scandalised reaction;
A certain glee I haven't felt before.
A girl should be aspiring
To be pliant and retiring:
A meek, mild-mannered soul in words and deeds,
But engaging brain and muscle,
In a daily doorstep tussle,
Is precisely what a stressed landlady needs.

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