ramblings and things
This is the sanitarium of sick jokes,
Ancient wheezes, japes and tricks,
All marked and labelled in categorie
That Range from one to ninety six.
Some of them have raised the roof
In many an ancient music hall,
Some caused titters in venues
A little more humble and small.
Some of them are convoluted
Needing skill in their telling,
Needing so much concentration
To make the point they are selling.
Most of them are joyful
But a little few are sad
And, filed in side wards, those
That, quite frankly, are bad.
The place echoes to ancient laughter,
An awe inspiring, flowing sound
That permeates the corridors
As the inhabitants move around.
Fashions in humour changes
Reflecting changing living styles
So some of them are revived to
enjoy new popularity for a while,
But, sadly, inevitably,comes that time
When new found popularity ends
And, each is returned to be
Re filed with their old friends.
Many enjoyed the days long before
These of instant communication
When, for years and years, they could
Be toured round and around the nation;
Then along came television
And all at once they were seen
Across sometimes the world
On that haunted fish tank screen.
Now they live in retirement
Remembering days of old
When roofs were raised with laughter
Each and every time they were told.
Some may think this to be
A ghostly, sad, eerie place
But very few visitors ever leave
Without a smile on their face.
This is the sanitarium of sick jokes
Quips, comments, stories rude and witty,
Where all bathe in warmth of past fame,
And very few feel the need of any pity,
For Humour runs in cycles
And they never know when
They may be revived to enjoy
Fame and fortune once again.