Plop

Plop

You’re rotten to the core monsieur.
For you there is no cure monsieur.
I never said toujours monsieur,
You don’t have to stay.
So I’ll show you to the door monsieur,
And send you on your way.

Get back to you sewer monsieur,
Where you belong for sure monsieur.
You treat me like a whore monsieur,
Well now it’s time to pay.
So I’ll roll you in manure monsieur,
And then flush you away.

Kate L Worthington