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~ No Yen Ken ~
~ No Yen Ken ~
Every time he spends his money,
Unfolds his wallet and there's his honey,
Presented 'hind a plastic screen,
Old wound which boasts a snapshot queen.
Assistant clasps those crinkly notes,
His frozen dream winks as she gloats,
But photo falls unto the ground,
A polaroid that makes no sound.
She's kicked around and bent in two,
Her owner does not have a clue;
The only frame which kept him sane,
Has now become a dirty dame,
That's scratched and torn from life's old pages,
This part of her that never ages.
The only wealth he cares to see,
His grandchild's arms 'round her nanny,
Like torcs of gold around her neck,
Smooth checkout girl now scans a cheque,
Which bounces, unlike wifey's pic,
Wedged under baskets fifteen thick.
She's stuck now to a magazine,
Domestic homes with upstairs scenes;
Her grimey, blackened, creased-up head,
Clings to another man in bed.
Electric doors invite a gust,
So down the aisle rotates her bust,
That bounds and flops towards the tip;
The dirty mare is in the skip.
With lack of dosh 'n' rubber cheques,
Her husband now, is poorly vexed;
He thought he'd brought out scads of cash,
Before his love rolled in the trash.
Now frantically, he pads his coat,
And hope's he's carrying extra float,
Then out the blue, to their surprise,
Mysterious piece of paper flies.
Swift wind has portered 'pon their till,
Compacted, multi-coloured bill;
Skint hubby pleads, to end his strife,
" Please cashier, will you take my wife? "
THE END :))