The Rejected Lady

Darden Centre – Surrey, England: Photo: WHB – 2001

The way to treat a lady when you’re tired
Is not to dump her in a bin and run.
Why not admit that she you once admired
Has lost your love and now your chapter’s done.

To tip her in a bin head first was cruel,
Forgetting all the love she gave to you.
For once she was your all transcendent jewel;
A wretched end was not the thing to do.

She was owed far better from her erstwhile lover,
A fitting end would be a parting prayer,
To let goodbyes be said, the party’s over,
And move on to the next furtive affair.

We hope your new amour will treat you better
Than you deserve, you two-faced cheating brute.
Perhaps she’ll send that candid scarlet letter,
The one which spills the beans on your repute.

Just remember this my callous Casanova.
That when you end your defunct escapades.
When all that great ferment at last is over,
Then, what you sow you’ll truly reap in spades.

Drunk in Charge

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Drunk in Charge

 

Tell me, ossifer am I drunk,
Am I sipped as a newt;
Is my peech slurred, and jisdointed,
Do you drink I’m cute?

I only had eight piny tints,
Two friskies and a gin;
My tongue it’s full, my stomach dry,
My thirst has given in.

So when she offered to whet my wizzel
My stomach rose to meet me.
It told me not to chiss a mance,
It struggled to defeat me.

And soon I found myself committed,
As she scraped me from the floor.
I’d Rossed the Crubicon indeed,
I’d never done that before.

I’d never never, ever ever,
Been so dunk before;
Now I’d thrown fortune to the sinned,
Shown caution to the door.

I thought that I had scored, you see,
For though my shemory’s mady
I’d never even kissed before
So how could I defuse the lady?

She trapped me in her squeegee arms,
Offering more gin and sin;
Plied me with her cheadly darms
Till my pillwower gave in.

She meld my hind in threepest drall,
My soul it hoared to seaven;
She took advantage of my age,
I’m nearly sinety neven

So, occifer, please keat me trindly,
I’ve never dreen bunk before.
I promise I’ll not gain astray,
I’ll embellish you for chevermore.

 

redline-thin

What’s In a NAME?

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What’s In a NAME?

 

A Girl’s Lament in her Search for a Suitable Partner

 

Ladies, I’m thinking,
of marrying soon,
But very few men
Would cause me to swoon.
I’d be very choosy,
I’d go for the name
I’m no boozy floozy,
They’re not all the same.

For I’d soon kill a Bill
Get sick of a Dick;
Disgorge a George,
And enslave any Dave.

I’d get fed up with Fred,
And I’d smack out at Jack;
I might prosper with Oscar;
Test my libido with Leo,
And treat Tom with aplomb.

I’d give Max the axe,
And both Lucus and Brutus –
No better than Judas!

A Ted I would dread;
As for Teddy –  not ready;
And Desperate Dan,
From far Kasakhstan,
Was never the man,
To be in my plan.

Yes, I went into spasm
When I first met Adam.
I’d give Joe the elbow,
He’s so gung-ho with gusto.

The pond I did dredge
To find only poor Reg;
Then a minnow ‘mongst men
I met poor little Ben.

Dylan’s a villain,
And Toby’s a phony.
Carter’s a martyr,
A long-suffering non-starter.
Jude was a pseud,
Lewd, crude and screwed.
As for Ollie, Good Golly,
Much too melancholy.

Frank drew a blank,
So rank … and he stank,
And no medal of honour
Goes out to Connor.

But I’d say after all –
Though I bawl and I stall,
I’d rather a Paul
Than just nothing at all.

Of course, if the chance
came my way,
Being so scrumptious,
To be a new duchess,
At the end of the day
No longer I’d tarry,
I’d marry a Harry.

 

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