You've just got home with your brand new bride
And carried her into the house with pride
As she gazed up at you all doey-eyed,
And life just couldn't be better.
A year down the line and the honeymoon's through;
You wind her up, and she does you
And you're constantly careful of what you do
For fear you'll bloody upset her.
Well two years on and life is the pits;
She was put on this Earth to get on your tits,
You've just about come to the end of your wits
Cursing the day that you met her.
You go down the pub, 'cos you can't stay in
And when you come back it's, "Where have YOU bin'?"
As she stands there tappin' the rollin' pin
With "I HATE MEN" on her sweater.
Well one of these nights, as you stumble back
And brace yourself for another whack
Instead of an unprovoked attack
To greet you inside is a letter.
She's packed her stuff and gone to her ma
So you settle back down in your seat at the bar
And drink until you forget who you are
As you struggle in vain to forget her.
The weeks go by and you talk on the phone
Neither enjoying existing alone
And for your sins you vow to atone
So she tells you to come round and get her.
Now she's back, but all is not well
'Cos she makes the rules, you're under her spell
Your resolute nature she's managed to quell
And your vigour she's managed to fetter
You vow that for her you'd walk into hell
To the devil himself your soul you would sell
And for owt she desires she just has to yell
And whatever it is you will let her
So if'ya don't want a wife like Attila The Hun's
The next time when off to her mother's she runs
Be strong, stand firm and stick to your guns
And don't bloody go round and get her
If you've any comments about this poem, Ben Mousley would
be pleased to hear from you.