Heather

Me secretaries

Given me heather

Lucky she said

(She's a fella)

She thinks I don't know

But she can't tie a bow

She quivers in heels

And drinks stella

Anyway

On with this

Honourable muse

She lives to cajole

And confuse

Trying at clever

Using snide as a lever

She spends hours winding up

Between booze

Trying on different hats

Ooh'in at babys

And cuddl'in cats

Anything she'll do

To convince me she's true

She even swears golf clubs

Are bats

Followed her once to the loo

Baffled she was

Between two

There's only one choice

For those of fair voice

It's the one with the skirt

(Even I knew)

At meetings, she tries to fit in

Flashing her shadowy grin

By six it bursts out

And there's stubble, no doubt

There's even a patch on her shin

Every day she wears a new skirt

Don't even ask

I don't care

It must hurt

She can't change a fuse

Flat tyres confuse

And the name on her licence is Burt

Bernadette (she insists its just short)

With a giggle a smile and a snort

She laughs like a man

But her boyfriends called Sam

She towers over him

(Christ he's short)

Who am I to ask her outright

She works through the day

And the night

She always looks busy

Convincingly dizzy

And at seven foot six

What If I'm right?

Hit by a bloke with a purse

And to hit him back

Very much worse

Me Mrs would freak

No tea for a week

And me wages for six months

Disbursed

So for now I shall humour

Her plight

No gender remarks will I site

No sneers as she speaks

Seat left down through the week

And a lock on the phone every night

lex ?4