A Scottish Soldier
A Scottish soldier went into a drugstore,
And said to the young girl there,
“Could ye tell me for free,
“What it would cost me,
“If this condom ye did repair?”
He handed her an old contraceptive,
And she held it twixt finger and thumb.
It was yellow and wrinkled,
Transparent and crinkled,
Like the skin of an old man’s bum.
“I’ll have to ask,” she said keeping her poise,
“The person who owns this place.
“So, please have a seat,
“Take your weight off your feet,”
And a grin it spread over her face.
The pharmacist shook his head in amazement,
And to his assistant did say,
“I know I’m not stupid,
“But this glove of Cupid,
“Has long since had its day.
“Tell him from me it’ll cost him a dollar,
“But a new one just two nickels more.
“Let him determine,
“If he wants rags or ermine . . .
“. . . then show him the way to the door.
So the young girl relayed to the soldier,
The gist of her conversation.
And . . . somewhat vexed,
Looking most perplexed,
He departed in great consternation.
The following day the Scotsman returned
And said with joy in his voice,
“I am prepared,
“To have it repaired . . .
“ . . . Or should I say, that’s the regiment’s choice.”