(A re-post from 10 years ago when I was young and foolish and wrote nonsense such as this)

 

I met her in a bar

When I worked in Stranraer

Where she cried in the corner

So I went so far

As to console her.

 

She looked up at me

So then I could see

The blood and the snot;

She’d broke her tooth –

It was a molar

(Or perhaps a praemolar;

No, no, it was a molar).

 

Her mouth opened wide

Where I gazed at inside

The cavernous gap

Big enough to take

A pot-holer.

 

I then looked at it

And I told her to spit

In a hat that I found

Lying on the ground;

It was a bowler.

She said that she’d stole a

Hat from a solar

Panel Engineer.

 

I asked her how she had broken her tooth

But there on the molar was the living proof

It wasn’t the fist of some thuggish attacker

But her forceful chomp on a rogue Cream Cracker.

 

I pushed them away

“Your teeth will decay”

I begged of her, “Please,

You’d best not eat these;

The Cracker’s too hard

Just stick to the cheese”.

 

So that’s the way

That I started my play

And I sealed when

I discovered the way

To control her.

 

She said  “Brie’s for me

But Feta is better”

But when she was pissed

She couldn’t resist

Gorgonzola,

Whoa whoa Gorgonzola.

 

I said “I think you’re wrong

Gorgonzola’s too strong”

So then I enquired

“Have you ever tried

Cambazola?”

 

She said “It’s far too fatty

Just like Dolcelatte.

I don’t mind these

But the King of Cheese is

Gorgonzola”

Whoa whoa, Gorgonzola

etc