A Trois Femme then Piss Off or Wise Up or We men can be such Dicks

Hey! Listen my love

Every Woman is beautiful
Secret tucks and bits
Cascading hair, clothes to wear
Cleavage, throat and tits
Pearly teeth and bright wide eyes
Sweet lips swollen red
In pretty knickers underneath
Above smooth and milky thighs
Give me a Jane a Jill or Wendy
To stop my prick from growing bendy
Wet warm mouths that will eat me up
Then comes splashing, the final fit
So please no more talk of inadequacy
I’ll hear no more of it!

Oh! Piss off or wise up you prick!

So my beauty ‘s all in tucks and bits
Lips knickers, thighs and tits
Any old fart could tell me that
Is that really where you’re at?

Where’s a man who’ll give me
Poems written just for me,
A big bear hug a smoochy dance
Sensuous kisses, sweet romance?
Maybe I’ve hidden myself too well
A crab needs shelter beneath its shell
But dig a bit deeper,
I’m not good sleeper
As I’m sure you’ll discover
I’m sexy,
I’m responsivei
I’m a
passionate lover

CHRISTMAS AND OUR FIRST TELEVISION 1956

The onset of a heavy nose bleed early on Christmas Eve saw me packed off to bed with my nose plugged, under strict instructions from the doctor that I was not to be allowed to watch the new television lest I enjoyed myself.
Under no circumstances was I to laugh or become over excited, thus pre-empting the onset of another nosebleed. As it turned out, there really was very little for the good doctor to be concerned about.
Christmas morn, gifts exchanged, mother was happy and sang
‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’
Singing with gusto, whilst she brushed and and cleaned finally disinfecting the lavatory.

For the greater part my Christmas Day was spent plumped up upon pillows and proudly insisting on wearing my new sheepskin gloves whilst reading ‘Two Years Before the Mast’. Beside me, in the green whicker chair, sucking noisily on small wooden forkfuls of sweet sticky date, sat my Grandmother surrounded by curling tangerine peel and nutshells. Beneath the bedroom door the flickering blue light played as the electronic glee eminating from the distant TV filtered through to my bedside just as a trickle of warm blood from my nose ran down onto my new sheepskin gloves. In an effort to staunch the flow of blood from my nose my Grandmother dropped cold keys down my back whilst pushing squares of turkish delight into her mouth leaving the top of my head covered in a layer of white icing sugar.