absence coupled
with silence
makes this woman's
imagination
run wild

I once knew a lass called Louise
Who had a penchant for smelly cheese
She got camembert
Stuck in her hair
And said 'that'll be good for the fleas!'

You are my apple king
i love you to your core
I love your rounded apple cheeks
And your tender age of four
Your dark shining eyes
Like little apple pips
The cheeky grin that you let slip
from your sweet rosey lips

You like the female breeds
Pink ladies, granny smiths
The sweetness of a braebern
Is what you're content with

Straight from the tree
Or from the shelf
Or from a bowl or box
Three a day
You munch and crunch
My little British ***!

on a bed of old newspapers
the homeless man slumbered