John Prescott
Because obviously – and we can all share our differential opinions on this –
Love. I mean, take my Pauline, for instance, else both or either of the Jags,
I can’t imagine life without them; no more the smoker could his fags
But there’s evidentially more to it than just things you’re going to miss.
Because actually – not unwithstanding what the cynics either side may say –
Love. For God or country, for exemplar, or, as in my case, decent scran,
Proper pies, chips in beef dripping – such things as made me who I am,
The stuff that gives life flavour with their savour, what that be it may may.
Because naturally – and I speak for the vast minority in this country in saying so -
Love. I mean, yes, a sexual dimension, that buxom leather trousered lass
As once could bring me to attention with just one joggle of that ass,
But not just her, no, all those filibusted girls the young men want to know.
Because absolutely – and I think I can say that without fear of contravention –
Love. All you need, the Beatles reckoned, and, I mean, who’s going to quibble?
With poets and whatnot backing them up, my tuppenceworth seems drivel.
Pretentious, moi? Perhaps I am; just thought it something I should mention.
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