For (and on behalf of) Jo
Shall I compare thee to a charva?
They’re not my type – need I go much farther?
You’re much more dapper and quiffy
I’d make a pass at you when squiffy
Your mulberry trousers are a thing of wonder
And don’t get me started on what lies under
That crisp white shirt – ooh, stop it, Jo!
Your plummy-voiced chuckle sets me aglow
Can’t get enough of you upper-class rogues
Right down to your patent leather brogues
Looking perfectly, immaculately dishevelled
Your flushed pink cheeks leave me bedeviled
I doubt you’ve ever been poor
Walking your big black labrador
Chin-wagging with your pals from Chelsea
But I’d warm you like an Aga
If you’d buy me a lager
At a local classy drinking establishment…