The holiday romance is wintering
in the blankets of her bestest buddy.
There’s an empty ring in the silver tin,
and candles light the depths of her study,
where she’s practising pole dancing and TEFL;
she’ll throw a dart in a part of the globe
and chase the arrow for some precious metal
while her lips and her legs remain in vogue.
It’s closing time in the gardens of the West,
we can’t afford the servants any longer.
She’s in a tipsy state and a flimsy dress,
bent over at the wrong end of a conga.
Foreign eyes are leering at your daughter
in the queue for the new world order.
“Ray Miller is a Socialist, Aston Villa supporter, and faithful husband. Life’s been a disappointment”