She was the perfect woman, she was my kind of a bird
She stayed in the kitchen and never said a word
She had real big tits and a lovely slappable arse
But now she's into barbeques and wine bars
I used to go out with her, she cooked me all my meals
Then one day she made it big, she won 'Miss Macclesfield'
She married an Italian just coz he was posh
They honeymooned in Brussels, he played a bit of squash
Next she wed an ale baron who came from Lancashire
But he wasn't rich, he was just another Wigan Peer (pier)
I used to go out with her, she cooked me all my meals
Then one day she made it big, she won 'Miss Macclesfield'
She'll get fed-up with buffets, one day she'll come back
She knows that all the real men live in Macc
She'll tell me that she loves me and she hated living with toffs
I'll slip her a length, then I'll tell her: 'Fuck off'
I used to go out with her, she cooked a nice bit of grub,
She may have been a beauty queen, but I'd rather go down the pub.
N.B.- This song was written just after the Heysel Stadium disaster.
(When squashed Italian jokes were all the rage).
N.B.- "Wine Bar"- We think this may be the place where women go at night.
( We tried to find out, but they wouldn't let us in- we had no mobile phone, and didn't arrive in a 4-Wheel Drive).
A contest entry
- Revenge of The Ex by GypsyEyes.
450 points, ended December 24, 2007, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - lust & love by whiterabbit..
375 points, ended January 6, 2008, 37 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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This is verry god. I like this won an orfull lot its real good I think, like, its real funny and a larfed like a drane at it. Verry good.
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I have the perfect woman, my wife. She is limbless except for one arm (which is stunted and of little use) and as a result tends to just lie there and do as I say, it is great. Nice poem/song.
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Judge Says
hahhahaa!! this was very funny! I enjoyed this! thank you for entering and good luck in my contest!
~Dommi -
This is a great piece of art in the sense that every time I go the toilet I pump out a Picasso (brown period).
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I remember the Heysel Stadium event. I laughed so much I shat myself. Three times, would you believe it?
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