By Keith Sowerbutts.

Murphy lived on a lonely farm
And a thought often filled him with fear,
With crime, violence, mugging quite rife,
What would happen if a burglar was near?

So off he went and purchased a firearm,
If they came, it would give him a chance,
One shot might scare off the felon,
No intruder would lead him a dance.

He slept with the gun underneath his pillow,
Still nervous, noting every sound,
When he heard a noise in the bedroom,
Drew the pistol, aimed, fired off a round.

The bullet blew off his own big toe,
It wasn't a burglar at all
Just the tapping of the curtain against the window,
Soon ambulance men answered the call.

They asked him what had happened,
He replied as he rose from the bed,
"I'm lucky, if I'd slept the other way round,
I'm convinced I'd have blown off my head!"