Brown Sauce Blues

Now I’m just a simple fellow And what I like the most Is a dollop of brown sauce Spread on me breakfast toast. You can keep your marmalades Jams and your various spreads Just give me a bottle of HP sauce Cos I’d rather have that instead Not served in a plastic bottle cos At times they can suddenly spurt And before you really know it You have sauce all over your shirt. No, served from a glass bottle It flows in a steady stream That mixes with your hot butter To provide a culinary dream. You can keep your haute cuisine Because what I enjoy the most Is lashings of hot butter mixed with The brown sauce on me toast They looked at me in horror Breakfasting at this posh caff And one of them had cheek To just stand there and laugh And then to make doubly sure Me and me habits weren’t seen They went and put me table Behind a large folding screen I find it rather irksome that The breakfast for which I lust Is regarded by so many as a Habit of loathsome disgust. No, I’m just a simple fellow And what I like the most Is a dollop of brown sauce Spread on me breakfast toast.