His And Her Roles Reverse Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

I need a man for a French maid.
As I linger around watching him, a slave
I'll light up another cigarette and gloat.
He's after my heart; he's my type of bloke.

The world has changed, roles reversed.
I don't require any more pocket money or chunk change.
Nor a diamond, nor a tacky engagement ring.
But that said, I do like a little bit of bling.

I need a man who'll change the bedding.
Who has the smarts to plan his funeral and wedding?
But with that said, I'll not be wed.
There's only so much time for shopping.

I need a man who'll bite his lip.
Who knows exactly when he's licked and whipped?
I need an unquestionable, trusting friend.
A man has more women than a man, I guess, in the end.