A gnostical twinge.

I went to the doctor to grouse.

As I seemed to have lost my own spouse.

Don’t be concerned

You haven’t been spurned.

And let me be blunt,he’s a louse.

 

I said,is there a shampoo not too dear

To wash such men out of one’s hair?

No,it’s a  decision,

Without any contrition,

Never, ever try to be fair.

 

I said,doctor I was born to be blonde

And of my hair I am reasonably  fond.

But my husband has strayed

And I’m not a maid

If you think so,then you have been conned.

 

You lie for your hair has gone white

Yet it looks blonde by that neon light.

Your skin looks quite pale

Keep out of all gales.

I hope that you will soon be alright.

 

Well,white hair is currently in vogue

And spectacles are a la mode.

But you are much too thin

To keep a mobile  phone in

Your brassiere as its  general abode.

 

 

Nobody mentions the plus

Of having a very large bus’

You can store stuff in the cleavage

I  can hardly believe it

Please don’t let  the church make a fuss.

 

For Christianity has a Gnostical tinge

On which numerous saints have over- binged

The flesh is  a danger

As is sex with a stranger.

This is certainly far beyond the fringe.

 

 

 

 

 

a