THE LIGHTNING STRUCK MY TELEVISION AERIAL

THE LIGHTNING STRUCK MY TELEVISION AERIAL

The lightning struck my television aerial,
The picture went straight off,
I nearly choked upon my butty,
And all I could do was cough.

There was a flash outside the window,
The whole room lit up bright,
I nearly threw my butty down,
I got such a blooming fright.

The sky turned electric blue,
The thunder shook the floor,
I sat there with my mouth wide open,
Just staring at the door.

The television gave a crackle,
Then everything went black,
I shouted, “Oi! I’m watching that!
You’d better bring it back!”

But what really was upsetting,
And this is absolutely true,
Of all the things that could go wrong—
I was watching Mr Magoo.

Poor Mr Magoo had disappeared,
Right in the middle of the show,
One second he was on my telly,
The next—where did he go?

I tapped the television twice,
As though that might do the trick,
Then thunder rattled all the windows,
And I moved away quite quick.

My butty sat there forgotten,
My tea was getting cold,
And somewhere up upon the roof
My aerial had been poleaxed bold.

Then suddenly the picture flickered,
A fuzzy face came through,
I leaned towards the television—
“Come on! Give me Magoo!”

The storm eventually wandered off,
The television lived somehow,
But every time the sky turns blue,
I watch that aerial now.

Because lightning can have the rooftops,
The chimney and the loo
But keep your flashing hands away
When I’m watching Mr Magoo!