It started as an irritating drip, drip, drip.
Then slowly it evolved to a trickle
It fell away from the faucet lip
And my body it did tickle.
A drip to a trickle and then a stream
I thought of the water bill
But it continued to flow and then teem
Almost up to the sill.
I dozed and dreamed of forty days and nights
And what just might ensue
If the water kept on running
There'd be some mess here in the loo.
So the bath continued to run on
Over the lip, across the floor
And then a little beyond
It flowed beneath the door.
Nothing had prepared me for the flood
In the tub I'd been catching some z's
Now I knew my name was mud
For sure, if not, then Archimedies.
She flew through the door and with a shrug
Yelled "Get out young man"
She plunged in her hand and pulled the plug
My Auntie Diluvian.
So forgive me now my little game
And this didn't happen, dummy
But writing a poem around such a name
I thought was kinda funny.
Next time, perhaps, another feat
An example of my contrarianism
That is to say if you'd care to meet
My Auntie Disestablishmentarianism.