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.