Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long.
One who thinks before he speaks.
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man, who'll make love to my mind.
He knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end.
And he'll always be my very best friend.
I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs who owns a liquor store and a golf course.
I know this doesn't rhyme and I don't give a monkeys.
"Do you like Tolstoy?", I asked Diane Abbott.
"Of course”, she replied, “Who doesn't?"
"What's your favourite book?", I asked.
"The one where Woody is kidnapped and Buzz tries to save him", she answered.