Dinner for one

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.