Winds light to disastrous

As I sipped morning tea,

A gale (force three)

Blew away a slice of toast.

Then a gale (force four)

Blew my wife out the door,

I wonder which I’ll miss the most.

She was still alive

When a gale (force five)

Blew her screaming o’er Golders Green,

When a gale six blew

And it took her to

A mosque in the Medanine.

Now I pray to heaven

That a gale (force seven)

Will whisk her farther still,

Let a gale (force eight)

Land her on the plate

Of a cannibal in Brazil.

A gale (force nine)

Blew away my chips & Spam

But! a gale (force ten)

Blew them back again,

What a lucky man I am!


(Spike Milligan, 1977)