Don’t go down to the pub tonight,
Come sit front the burning log.
Whisper sweet words of love to me,
Seldom the times that we ‘snog’
You manage to get into fights every time,
It’s always a worry to me.
Concerned I be, as to where you are,
In the boozer, or in A & E.
Head strong is yo, without any will-power,
Held in the breweries clutches,
Straight into a scrap on Saturday night,
They battered your head with your crutches.
Your bound to feel better next week my love,
When the Plaster comes off your toes.
You are looking better each day my love,
‘cept the teeth marks embossed in your nose.
You are better off laying by me my love,
And feeling that you are in ‘heaven’.
As the time spent together is short my love,
‘cos my husband comes home at ELEVEN.

©Bill Austin.