|
By smirking prank of fate, |
|
We find ourselves dancing late, |
|
Like young reprobates. |
|
By the milky light of the mighty moon, |
|
Find someone to nuzzle to, |
|
And waltz from the room. |
|
We're all quiffed and cropped, |
|
This is our lot, |
|
We hold each other up heavy with hops. |
|
By smirking prank of fate we wiggle and kick like bobbing bate, |
|
And wait for a bite. |
|
By the milky light of the mighty moon, |
|
Find someone to nuzzle to, |
|
And waltz from the room. |
|
We're all quiffed and cropped, |
|
This is our lot, |
|
We hold each other up heavy with hops. |
|
My darling, |
|
My dumpling, |
|
My plump hearts a thumping- begging you to come to me. |
|
I couldn't be more ready, |
|
I couldn't be more ready. |
|
A glottal stop. |
|
Bottled up. |
|
Waiting for the penny drop. |
