No fancy French restaurants, with candlelit suppers no
Chinese or Balti, Madras or Josh Rogan cos
None can compare with our British fayre
Two Cod & Chips, totally boneless
Wrapped up in paper, like many poor homeless
Batter and bits, your fingers my lips
Though once it was gone, the lips lingered on
On to the afters, a real man’s dessert
Off with the trousers, off with the shirt
Come on my lovely, no need to flirt
Nothing but passion, no more the pain
Two Cod & Chips have done it again
Oh it was lovely, oh it was nice
Two Cod & Chips, two buttered slice
There’s nothing quite like it, other than when
Two peoples feelings, allow them to share
Passion and Chips, and a future elsewhere.
2 comments