The Brutish British

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British ladies are not ladies but dames
Their esteem reputable like the River Thames.
So when this British dame unluckily migrated
To my side of town, my migraine emigrated.
I hung all my days of forlorn hope
Upon a rackety rope.
That bae was gonna be my boo
All I had to do was woo.

Now, remember they're all dames with esteem
They don't want a car with a rim
They want a gentle lad not a cental shad and not a tad bad.
A man who will treat em like Queen Elizabeth
Quiet and not noisy like the megadeath.
So I got them suits and jackets on lease
Cos, bro, I wanted to look like all of these.

So I trod with a spring
Suits, ties and all, doing my thing.
"Good morn, my lady". I'll say.
Or "Good eve, fairest of all of they".
"Can we go out?"
"or watch a movie down south?"
I opened doors, and said "Ladies first".
And then I wiped dust off her hat's crest.
That's it, bro, chivalry!
That's how you get British pussy.

But who taught me about British women?
And exactly when?
Oh my lord! I knew I shouldn't have clung to that generalization
Of them only having gallant and chilvarous expectations
When I saw her riding away behind the old station
And that was a hood thug she was with!
Damn, some shit!
That was no gentleman, he didn't know no chilvary
But that's the problem with sticking to a one story
Not all British ladies are dames
Some can still be total brutish shames!

By
Nevies, the son of Aphrodite and brother to Eros, Eryx, Peitho ,
The Graces
Phobos , Deimos,
Harmonia , Pothos ,
Anteros , Himeros ,
Hermaphroditus, Rhodos, Priapus, and Aeneas.

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