If there were only a table,
With a glass on top,
Nothing else in the room,
I still would manage to drop.
On the corner of a desk,
I just cannot miss it,
Wandering past I come to blows,
As my thigh takes a hit.
I take a stroll round the shops,
Down the main high street,
There’s a crack in the pavement,
Taking a tumble tripping over my feet.
Clumsy I have been described,
Knocking over a cuppa coffee,
When rushing out the door,
Screaming as I bang my knee.
My party piece has to be,
Me and stairs we don’t gel,
I need a hazard warning sign,
As it never ends well.
From holding a tray of drinks,
Flying into the air as I tripped,
To landing at the bottom flight,
Leaving my front tooth chipped.
I’m that bull in any situation,
Knocking anything off the shelf,
From bumping into and bruising,
Bubble wrap required to protect myself.
I really am the female equivalent,
Of that character you may have seen,
On the TV and in film,
That’s it they call me Mrs Bean.