This is a story for those women who are
free,
just so as you don’t make the same mistake as me.
When searching for a man, don’t go on looks,
‘cause they’re very deceptive – like covers
on books.
He’ll wine you and dine you, then steal your heart,
It’s very romantic when a love affair starts.
So here is my story of how he once looked
and when I looked at the cover – instead of the book.
When first I met him I fell in love,
some girls they’d drool while other would shove.
To be his woman was my only gain,
his wife-to-be and have his name.
He had beautiful brown eyes and slicked dark hair,
a firm puckered bum that made women stare.
A stomach that rippled like a six-pack of beer,
a tanned hairy chest and gold-earring in ear.
His pins were long, like footballer legs,
they travelled to his bum that was as hard as a boiled egg.
Oh! He was sexy then…youthful and strong,
looking back, my dear, it’s been ten years too long.
In the afternoon when he rises out of bed,
he stretches his arms and scratches his head,
lets off a fart and crudely says,
‘Good old arse, I thought you were dead.’
He’s an old bag of wind with many leaks
and that’s why to him the oh toothless one speaks.
He goes to the bathroom, the mirror to look in,
only bloodshot eyes stare back at him.
I was once the envy for being his woman,
what they didn’t know was that his feet were humming.
His puckered bum has become part of his thighs,
then I think back and I ask myself why?
His hair has receded with every year
and that once middle shade now parts at the ear.
His stomach that resembled a six-pack of beer
No longer is there ‘cause it’s now a barrel
my dear.
Now he knows why in the middle of the night
when I say I’ve a sore head and it starts a fight,
he reeks and smells of the devil juice,
that’s why my dear I make an excuse.
He’s no more Mr Wonderful that made women drool,
He’s Rab C Nesbitt and a silly old fool.
