Your husband upped and left you
After years of playing the field?
My heart goes out, I know the type
Of course, my lips are sealed.
Let me be your confidant
I’m generous, let me show it
Champagne, I think is called for
Trust me, I’m a poet.
***
Put my wallet on the counter
When I turned round it had gone
And I’ve got to meet my agent
In town, for lunch at one
To sign a five-book contract
I’ll be back before you know it
Can you lend me fifty quid?
Trust me, I’m a poet.