| Monica sighed, rolled onto her side
|
| She was so impressed that she just surrendered
|
| She was moved by his wheels, she was just up from Wales
|
| He was fuelled by her coals and he was coming to catch her
|
| Lose the sense of time, nail down the blinds
|
| And in the succulent dark, there’s a sense of ending
|
| Joking aside, the mechanical bride
|
| Has fallen prey to the Great Pretender
|
| Let me just point out discreetly
|
| Though you never learn
|
| All those tawdry late-night Weepies
|
| I could make you weep more cheaply
|
| As the empty moon enamels
|
| Monica with spoons and candles
|
| Bangs around without the light on
|
| Furniture to get it right on
|
| Settled in a homely fishpool
|
| Hung with little eels
|
| Often thinks that travel widens
|
| Stay at home; |
| the Trout obliges
|
| Monica sighed, rolled onto her side
|
| She was so impressed that she just surrendered |