I ate your dinner out of spite
for you came home late the other night
and on your shoulder I could see
a make up smudge, but not from me.
So tell me, who’s this mystery blond
at whom you’ve waved your magic wand?
And does she know what she is getting?
(Not at all, I don’t mind betting).
For despite your charm and kind demeanour
(we know that hindsight’s always keener)
You really are not such a catch
In fact, you don’t come up to scratch.
You’re lazy, mean and bad in bed
And many times I’ve wished you dead.
But I no longer need to wonder
where you are (and who you’re under)
As you can see, I didn’t eat
your favourite pud, made as a treat.
so help yourself, I dare you to.
Because I dipped it in the loo.