So I’m sitting in a pub, trying to chew on my grub,
The guy next to me is smoking up some herb.
I look in the mirror and I see me so shabby,
Reminds me of the old man, who used to be a cabbie.
In come Joanna, Shirley and Kitty,
Young boys in their arms, their fate I so pity.
One selfie, two selfie, three selfie, four,
Teeth sparkling, eyes twinkling, I could not keep score.
But the night had just started; it was liquor they craved,
Vixens they were, can the poor lads be saved?
The music was loud; there was smoke in the air,
She stared at his eyes; there was lust everywhere.
She pulled him to her as I looked on from here,
She chewed on his lips, and then gave me a glare.
She smiled at me once and then slipped me a wink,
I froze for a moment; then bought another drink.
The boys were quite sloshed now; it was time to go back,
They would feast on them soon; as they get to their shack.
They got up to leave as she brushed by my side,
“Call me” she whispered, “sure”, I lied.
Thus ended a night of mystery and delusion,
It all happened so fast; there was no certain conclusion!
Feminists, I wonder; they always want pity,
While vixens like these prey around the city.
And these women are on a prowl, they’re on to a mission,
Sex on their mind, they have a true vision!
