Now Doris is wife wuz quite different
And didn’t quite share Stans passion
She restricted herself to making lunch
With butties like to go out o’t fashion

So whilst e wuz out in all weathers
Our Doris remained  at home
She did all is mendin, cleanin and such
So folk didn’t gossip on their own

Trouble is Doris wuz bored
With spreadin and dustin ant like
So she thought for a change of t’scenery
She’d go fer a ride on Stan’s bike

She brought bike right out o’garage
An down t’roadside she went
Where some workers were diggin some oles
Somatt t’show for that rent

Now she knew that Stan wuz up in ill’s again
Although she did not know where
So she made up  butties, crisps and  pop
And adjusted bike seat wi some care

For now she had quite a problem
As her frock wuz obviously too tight
So she altered  length, pulled up oe’er er knees
Til the hem seemed just bout right

But she still couldn’t get on’t bike you see
Cos the cross bar it got in the way
And no matter she fiddled and fussed wi er frock
She liked to be there all day.

Then she ad inspiration
A knife to seams she wud take
And then on’t bike she would be off
 followin straight in Stan’s wake

But this did not work as an action
It was fiddly and not very bright
For no sooner she’d got leg up all lady like
She’d got a great tear in er tight

Now before ee gone that mornin
Stan ad oiled is chain good an proper
Trouble is, it ad dripped an wuz everywhere
An Doris come such a cropper

Cos she’d sat in the oil pool
and sun it wuz an ot un
Now feelin quite wet Doris then checked
findin  she ad a slick bottom

Now walking up road came Stanley
Whistlin and stridin is best
When all of a sudden e saw Doris
Sittin an takin a rest

Now wot be you doin quoth Stanley
A’ sittin side o’t road like a tramp
You’ll be getting folk talk, callin us names
As well  makin yer backside damp

Doris would ave non o’ this
And listin to port wi a sigh
Picked up bike an threw it at Stan
Who caught it mid air with a cry

Bike an Stan both fell over back in road
Just as roller went past
Tragedy struck, roller went oe’er bike
And Stan in whose hands it were clasped

Oh no shouted workmen an Doris
An neighbours ran out in shock
For the workmen had just laid tarmac
An Doris  sorted er frock

Stan wuz flat as a pancake
An’t bike it wuz destroyed
 moral to this tale Is keep things as they are
Not change them is to keep enjoyed