She Wore Pineapple Rings For Glasses
She wore pineapple rings for glasses
and walked like jelly dances
I didn't rate her chances
She used to wee standing up
she cooked lemon a'la duck
won the lottery, grumbled what bad luck
like a surgical nip, without the tuck.
She'd blow cream cheese when she sneezed
and eat ram dressed as lamb
for sunday roast she ate toast
with mushrooms for toes, little buttons in a row
smoked salmon for a nose, smelt fishy when she blows
She wore a chicken-winger-as-a-ring-around-'er-finger
that became a stinker, boy did it linger
thanks to x-factor, she wants to be a popsinger
but she's a bloody minger.
She cares not much for clothes
revealing skin and bones
much to establishments moans
and 'righteous' idiots groans
little boys stand and stare
french fries for pubic hair
thats not meant to be there
she makes a mess everywhere.
She's got a chopping board, where a leg should be
might be why she walks all wibbly wobbly
wears a saucepan for a boot, metallic clomping of her foot
for make up she uses butter
cheeks glow as eyelids flutter
she's well dressed like a salad
marinated in love ballads
a lemon glazed mallard.
She's like dessert before a starter
the rip off and the barter
she drips morsels like a leper
smells like fresh ground pepper
her blood doesn't flow much like batter
pure cholesterol but gets no fatter
she looks like beef but tastes of bacon
bleach white teeth with an accent like jamaican.
She makes a meal of everything
wearing rabbits paws and prawns for bling.
holding her hand feels like wriggling jellied eels
whiskers longer than the oldest seals.
She wore a banana as a brooch
didn't wash more like poach
she really is hamfisted, skin like crackling all blistered.
She's not a 5 a day, unless it's take away.
She's drunk too much grain, pickle damaged brain
downright bonkers on the left side of sane.
She slept alone upon a bed of stilton
in a suite at the glitzy ritzy hilton
upset, the tears she did cry
weeping raspberry sorbet from her eye
from the orbs within her pocket
hairstyled by electric socket
a crazy look, but I wouldn't knock it
for she lives her life free as the wind,
though she smells like brie that should be binned
or tuna from a damaged tin.
She's a genetically modified vegetable at a completely organic table
She cuts clothes off only to keep the label.
In this crazy ole world, shes still a backwards girl
enough to make even hardened stomachs hurl
Pretty tasty date, give her a whirl?
©John-Ovan.p.hull
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