In the gracious morning air so politely teasing your shiver
Bobby-Jo wakes up and tucks into liver.
As the Sun King radiates and warms with his love,
Into the Aga Bobby’s darling is shoved.
Now clouds gather for a refreshing spring dousing
And Bobby-Jo’s touring the council housing.
As welcome drops fall on the surface so dry,
Young Bobby-Jo gives the old folk the eye
As drops turn to drizzle, and drizzle to rain
Bobby-Jo’s tunic gets covered in brain.
Clouds draw apart: again Louis shines –
Bobby-Jo tires of the unemployeds’ minds.
The hunger not ended, with skies turning blue,
Bobby-Jo considers pastures anew.
Now Ra rises higher and hotter for all
And into the suburbs, the hungry one crawls.
And with blooming of flowers and frolicking wildlife
Bobby-Jo carefully carves up a housewife.
The mid-day heat turns to mirage and haze
And Jo with her gut full finally pays.
For in the great hurry to de-wife the house,
Bob had neglected the psychotic spouse.
So whip, chain, axe later, as breezes get up,
Our girl’s tainted blood is filling his cup.
So for all you man-eaters, a lesson to learn:
The middle-class couture can leave you with heartburn.