DOWN THE LINE.

Whilst calling her up
I heard talking
At her door,
And then later in the afternoon
There was more residual chatter
In her spartan apartment,
And I asked if she had a man there,
And she said it was her daughter,
But I thought the voice too noisy,
And said so,
As I know what dudes do,
Though apparently they say kiss my ass,
As it actually was my lover’s child passing through.

Still I was right about doughnut holes:
She thought them cut from the centre
Of the unmentionable treat,
But I knew they’re just a marketing tool
To sell more hellish food,

And my love is so unlucky these days
As she didn’t return her library books
And the fine was raised,
On January 1st,
From ten cents to twenty and she’s broke,
And what’s worse I hear the city
Is now employing Cripps
Or Bloods or similar groups
To retrieve their books,
Though she always did like
Those kind of manly tones around her home.