He-Men Poem by Trevor Butler

Respectable men, you will no doubt recall,
Have got a bad habit of knowing it all.
They never squat down on the floor on their haunches,
But slump in armchairs behind burgeoning paunches.

They suck cigarettes through a thick, yellow haze,
Sleep badly at night and feel dead through their days.
They constantly harp about high income-tax,
What neighbours are thinking and pains in their backs.

He-men, however, are different to this,
They live out their lives in absolute bliss.
They gamble their wages and laugh when they lose,
They never wear vests or dropp into a snooze.

They battle through hurricanes, earthquakes and fire,
With boxes of chocolates for girls they admire.
They rarely stay long at one proper address,
Or suffer from piles, apoplexy or stress.