Paul Lester


Lady In The Chippie

Pouting sweetly her rouge-red lips,
Was this the face that lauched a million chips
And cooked the cod for poor young William?

For here what is there out of plaice?
No chip on her shoulder or egg on his face -

Lady in the chippie, swinging your hips,
With your extra-spicy cookshop dips,

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