Preamble

As a teen, my mam used to put the mockers on my Friday nights out by saying “If you meet any girls treat them with respect, they are someone’s daughter or sister, don’t be having any casual sex or one-night stands”

 

 

Last Saturday night I was out with my mate

He is meeting his bird, I am on a blind date

He’d said she was fit, but from where I was sat

She looks like a bulldog choking on a cat

 

Well I look at this girl after eight pints or less

And she’s changed from a toad into a pretty princess

The rest of this tale reads just like a book

I buy her a drink and say do fancy a … dance

Then whisper sweet nothings of love and romance

 

We leave the pub for the chippy, then walk to the new …

Estate where she lives and go in for a brew

The coffee is foul, but I don’t much care

For it seems that her interests are lying elsewhere

 

I wake the next morning as sober as could be …

With the epitome of ugliness lying next to me

The first thought in my mind, is to get out of there

She’s Freddie Kruger in a wig from the Elm Street nightmare

 

So I pick up my clothes and shoes from the floor

Then creep down the stairs and out the front door

Skulking outside getting dressed in the rain

Then I am off down the street like an express train

 

I call round to my mates and beg him never to give

That lass my phone number or address where I live

I see her every now and then, sad eyes full of hurt and mistrust

and I feel the stabbing pangs of guilt brought on by the folly of lust