Honest men are the soft easy cushions on which knaves repose and fatten. (Thomas Otway)

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I’m not a cushion plumper
I’m a cushion plumper’s son
My mother plumps up cushions
and she does it just for fun!

I’m not a cushion plumper
I’m a cushion plumper’s friend
When I plump up the cushions
they go fat, all up one end!

I’m not a cushion plumper
I’m a cushion plumper’s spouse
we’ve got plumped up cushions
all over the plumping house!

I’m not a cushion plumper
I’m cushion plumper’s ex
our cushion plumping rows
meant we never ‘ad no sex!

I’m not a cushion plumper
the reason is you see
she took the cushions with her
and now I’m cushion free! Yipeee!

I’m not a cushion plumper
my cushion plumping’s past
no cushions on my sofa
I wonder will it last?

I’m not a cushion plumper
nor is my latest friend
I wonder if this poem
has reached it’s plumping end?

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