The body of a weak and feeble woman,
she could always be fitter,
there are some others, and there are better.
Of lesser Sex than the Casanova Man,
another notched name in the number game?
and his contra-band of merry unmarried men,
She is paradoxically naturally high, yet not quite their rock and roll,
only good at SingStar, doesn’t even know how to play the guitar,
is no expert at Sport and still can't drive a car!
Claims to breathe The Big Smoke, but pfft, lights no chic cigarette.
How can she be cool when she’s all nerd and loves school?
She’s not that smart anyway.
That C in her History A’s stood for Cambridge Cancelled.
She ended up wearing a silly tutu as an artsy bachelorette.
As for her mail order bride skills,
not too confident about the kitchen thrills.
She might bake cake and eat it too,
but the icing on top won’t be a fancy canoe.
As they lay entwined in bed
“But I’m just a Dull Bitch From London” she said.
Couldn’t see the wood for the trees beyond her pretty head.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Clearly not too tall, and her breastcups small,
“Am I not the most awesome of them all?”
Naked and exposed,
An Emperor’s New Clothes, or a Botticelli Venus.
The fascinating is in the doing of the maker,
that follows true with a real believer.
According to Albert the Genius:
If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid...