but rats for pats and it,s cool for cats
with spikey hair do gel
the flowers of romance some say but only time will tell
it could be fate some contemplate . . . . the feline pusy purrs
and buds with suds or studs with buds . . .  it,s very his and hers
it,s the death disco go . . .  with the ripped jeans on show .... they,re both so out and loud
some say raiders of the ark but . . .   maybe threes a crowd
  but love cats in "tats" and it rats in flats . . . . that evenings singalong
  some get the point and the maybe joint but "where did we go wrong" ??
and it,s hummertime-hums from the chummy-time chums .. . .  an alley rat on heat
  shooby dooby doo way wyeh . . . . the ninth or tenth repeat
but all rats are grey at the end of the day . . . . . who once sang of faith
yes he,s been bad and some might say cad . . .  ( smeagol strokes his wraith )
his "icky bicky hole wole wole"  . . .  theses day,s you can,t be sure
and  it,s such a long long long long way  . . .
down that corridor





the truth is out there but who cares
cares as much as the who bares bares
as dingy dime all blubbing me blubber (boo hoo hoo and slouth)
it,s all true romance and it,s time for a dancewith mr blubbermouth
and blubbing the chimes as all blub blubbing dimes
he,s usually so ribauld and rude
and flubber me blubber ( but don,t use a rubber) a romantic interlude
"what,s wrong with me what,s wrong with me"
( that,s p p p plain as for all as to see

getting his hopes up (all feline me whiney )probably thought of the frission
should stick to the dimes in the "radio swines"(she,s just so joy derision)
and don,t let them fool you (don,t let them "cool" you)
or string you along with a line
an alibi ( well it,s well worth a try)
i had friends with me there at the rhyme





live rust must  . . .a crazy horse
but you are like a curry sauce
  because you turn me  . . . round right round
in the sound of the jacket  . . .  it,s the silent of sound
  till hear my tale  . . .  says "rob the gob" a corny horn "corn on the cob"
a roll of bread best left unsaid we wipe away the midnight oil
a tahaj tally ho to see . . . in it,s silver tin and foil
cause like a veg to curry mock  a chicky that,s a laughing stock
fankenstein a bride to hide like a lager draughter
would they elope like he might hope
it,s happy ever laughter ??