She’s out late at night, though she’s up at dawn o’oclock.
She’s got a nasty reputation, but that’s the word from the flock.
Closet kleptomaniac, she’ll pick-pocket ev’ry man.
Sorrow, joy, gold, silver, girl you take it ‘cos/while you can.
Got her fingers in the till, but I turn a blind eye.
Let her stray and wander, I got a finger in (the pie.)
Ain’t made of paper money, ain’t made o’ burnished brass.
I was blinded by her bling-bling, the soft touch o’ workin’ class.
Garruline quick-witted, hangin’ on her every word.
‘cos I was young and foolish, didn’t believe what I’d heard.
Free to fly, free to flee,
but she always steals right back to me.
©13.9.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman
I was blinded by her bling-bling, no need to shag my ass.
Closet kleptomaniac, she’ll pick-pocket what she can.
Sorrow, joy, gold silver, girl you take it like a man.