Lunar Love-fest
We hear you're taking a trip to the moon
We hear you're not going alone
You're taking your skin and that juvenile grin
And that slattern who lives on Ryvita and gin
While playing a rusty trombone
We wish you the worst of the weather all week
We wish you would fall in a lake
You're stealing my life, not to mention my wife
That slattern whose middle name's probably 'Strife'
And whose features resemble a hake
We know you'll regret it the rest of your days
We hope that you'll rue it outright
You're playing with fire, 'twill consume you entire
And that slattern who's taken you down to the wire
Will book herself on the next flight
Envoi
We know it all, now ask us nice
Unless you want sincere advice
Contributors: | F, Beefy, Roland, Apsley. |
Poem finished: | 30th November 2004 by F. |