I wrote her name on
a bar mat
She had a peculiar
bonnet,
But a youngish damsel
figure
With her tongue tied
to a trigger,
She seemed a total
killer
Her face all filled
with filler,
Her face a painting
palette
I stomached all her
habits,
Sipped her snow balls
poshly like a judge
But left her lipstick
traces on her mug.
We watched each other
closely
She looks like Bela
Lugosi,
She asked me for a
ride home
I felt around for
my comb,
And in the bar room
mirror
I combed right through
her figure,
She wiggled through
the car park
Into the pit of my
heart,
Sat herself beside
me in my van
A ring on every finger
of her hand.
She lived down by the
river
A flat the council
give her,
Wallpaper very scenic
Her outlook very beatnik,
We watched the close
and weather
Then through the door
he entered,
Short sleeves and
arms of iron
And me with just my
tie on,
She said the lodger's
used to this by now
I'd handled all the
bull but not the cow.
Behind her velvet sofa
I found myself back
sober,
She kept an old acoustic
She never ever used
it,
A gift for me with
a capo
A six string with
an f-hole,
We made the strangest
couple
A Laurel and Hardy
double,
I learnt to play her
favourite country songs
With one or two chords
always going wrong