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Every morning at the caf you knew she’d arrived -

A good night’s sleep and quite perfectly revived:

     With arms like steel and a voice to match

     Our big bad Maggie was nobody’s ‘catch’.

 

She lived in a trailer in the back of beyond.

She dined on chips and bathed in the pond.

     Nobody faltered when it came to their turn

     For the glare on her face was more than just stern.

 

The men kind of whispered: 'I’d like a cup of tea,'

For Maggie’s loud voice could out-scream a banshee.

    If someone ever muttered that her scones were hard,

    They'd be grabbed by the collar and thrown in the yard.

 

There were no comments passed in Maggie’s firing line

For with one strong punch she could quickly redesign

    The features on your face not to mention elsewhere,

    And you’ve never heard language till you’ve heard her swear.

 

It was a morning in April - we remember it well -

When in walked Jake fresh from his prison cell.

      He studied big Maggie while he supped his cup of tea

      And the rest of this story is, well, kind of history.

 

The wedding was in August and a sight to behold:

Jake, Maggie and the vicar before the altar, bold.

   'Till DEATH do you part!' roared the Vicar in the church

    'And don’t turn to God if you leave Maggie in the lurch!'

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