Ellen
I wonder if dear Ellen knows
How much you like to kiss my toes
And go on till you reach my nose
And would she think do you suppose
That every day you bring a rose
It means that we can meet at Joe's.
You think she thinks you're working late
And if you're home by half past eight
She never really gets irate
But listens for the garden gate
And puts the supper on your plate
She really is the perfect mate.
But have you thought why Joe's not there?
It really doesn't seem quite fair
To drive him from his home and lair
So we can lie so close, and bare,
And happy, humid moments share
To show that, yes, we really care.
Had lunch today with Caroline,
She lives near you at number nine.
She gossips when she's had some wine.
"I saw Joe's Jag, it is devine,
He parks it on the yellow line
That starts just up the road from mine."