Two mirrors sat down to talk
Like two lions mouths that needed deeding
A blacksmith stood nearby with a sledgehammer
He had a writ for seven years bad luck in his pocket

The priest had asked him along
To break up any fight that might ensue

The clock ticked on the wall wouldn’t stop ticking
A stranger erupted in on the proceedings
Let me look at myself he said with a narcisstic sear
As soon as he sat between the mirrors
The scene erupted into a frenzy

A little mud lark started laughing crazily
And in his best cockney dialect said
Get a load of this you suckers
And tipped his barrow of mud onto the floor

As the priest in his mud stained frock ran out
The mirrors became calm and they stopped wrestling with the clock
It rolled away on the floor and came to a stop
It was precisely 12 o’clock at midnight