Master and Commander
Look at the wrinkles and creases
Etched into his permatan skin:
No wonder my tongue almost greases
His lips and his cheeks and his chin.
Now he seems sweeter and smarter and subtler
Now he seems sweeter and smarter and subtler
And I’d like to be both his valet and butler.
See how he soothes and assuages
The world which is kept out of view –
I’ve thought him a sage, oh, for ages and ages.
See the scrapes that he always comes through.
The apple of chaps and the loveliest looker:
And I’d like to be both his houri and hooker.
His aplomb when he bombed to submission
The various middle east louts –
His absolute lack of contrition,
The guff that he fervently spouts –
He’s always so cool, wherever the dramas.
I wish I could sleep in his bloodstained pyjamas.
