Watch those trim ankles and paranormal feet

At other end fab hair – elle est magnifique!

“Could I be bathed so gloriously in eyes so sumptuous blue

“I’d die,” the man says – I reply, no, no, mate, not for you

Not for you the soft embrace of shapely sexy arms

No contact with delicious lips, the touch of tender palms

And this is why, my sorrowing son, these wonders ain’t for you

(In case you’re thinking, silly sod, that there’s some plot a-brew)

She’s mine, that’s why, old boy, she’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine, all mine

It’s all for me this gorgeousness, so run away and whine!

The proud enjoyer of this darling face, this bum so sweet

Is dreary, ancient, unaccomplished, joyful, lucky Pete! 

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