Screamer's Ear

She worked an elevator in a city cinema
Lifting punters to the circle seats upstairs
And when the programmes finished she went home to her papa
Who lived quite close. It wasn't much in fares.

I learned all this from chatting as the lift went up and down
So I never caught the second feature yet,
But I soon began to think she was the sweetest girl in town
Which didn't seem to make her too upset.

When the place was short of custom in the early afternoon
We'd have little frolic between floors
And quickly learned to spring apart and look po-faced as soon
As the mechanism opened up the doors.

I asked her what she did when she had nothing else to do
And was there any place she'd care to go.
I guessed we'd wander in the park and try a bit of woo
But she preferred to see a picture show.

We met outside the Odeon she worked at every day
And thought the stalls was where we'd like to sit.
It made a change to pass the lift and see it climb away
With another little girl in charge of it.

When the titles flashed up on the screen I took her dainty hand
And there in perfect harmony we sat.
No liberty was taken and no liberties were planned
Until my arm went round her - just like that.

It seemed to be permitted so I snuggled very near,
Convinced it was the evening of my dreams
And so it was until by chance I touched her shell-like ear
And the cinema erupted with her screams.

The lights went up, the audience was peering round in fright
At what they thought was statutory rape.
I grabbed my little girlfriend and we rushed into the night
Through an exit door provided for escape.

I said "Omigod what happened?" She "Omigod you fool"
And I noticed she was rather close to tears.
She said "I've got this problem and I make an iron rule
That no-one is allowed to touch my ears."

Some girls have nuclear navels, some have animated toes,
According to the stories that one hears
But none of them wear labels or would want to, I suppose,
To warn that you must NEVER touch their ears.

Our parting was platonic, she went home to her papa
And she never told exactly what he said
But when we dated later in that self-same cinema
She wore a diver's helmet on the head.

For temptation can be conquered as the parsons often preach
Which was why she wore that headgear day and night.
And even in the lift she kept her ears well out of reach
By knotting up the neckband very tight.

She wore it when we married. Will the memory ever fade
Of the crowds that came to laugh and stayed to cheer
The couple who had mastered with a wise old father's aid,
What the tabloid press was calling "Screamer's Ear?"

For fifty years of wedlock it's been roses all the way
So I've had no cause to criticise or scoff.
There's just this silly question I still ask myself each day -
IS SHE NEVER GOING TO TAKE THE DAMN THING OFF?

Copyright; Joe Pamanian