Knock, Knock, Madame

Knock, Knock, Madame

“Knock, knock,” I cry in urgent pain.
“Who could it be?” you ask again.
“Tis I, madame, let me explain.”
“Begone, strange man, you plead in vain.”

“I do not wish to be a bore,
but lift the latch, I must implore.”
“I’ve opened once, so why do more?”
“Because my damn foot’s in the door!”

Author's note: ▼

Written for the February 2025 round of the Humorous Poetry Contest

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The Humorous Poetry Contest  (18+) The contest where the rating doesn't matter! #1875093 by Lornda

When I was a kid, we would never have dropped an f-bomb. My dad was a real pro with vulgar invective, but that was his outside voice. He (mostly) refrained when he was in the house or with his family in public. Us kids thought it was clever to get away with saying things like 'dam water' or 'hell-o operator'. Oh, days of innocence lost!

One opportunity for hilarity was this knock, knock joke:

Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Madame
Madame who?
My damn foot's stuck in the door!

I agree that the last line of the poem is strained, but I decided to remain true to the way I remember the joke.

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