Lady's Man

Lady’s Man



I wish I'd been a lady's man like some of mi mates.
They always know just what to do,, when going out on dates.
They strut around the pubs and clubs' in designer jeans
And wear them fancy underpants designed by " Kevin Clean."
They brag about their conquests and all the girls they 've known.
I remember buying chips and walking home alone.
I've hung around the taxi ranks in case I got a chance.
Never quite the place I feel, to ask a girl to dance.
I've tried to change mi image, wear stubble on mi chin.
Hoping that some foxy bird would invite me home for sin.
I never had the courage to make the first advance.
The other guys knew when to swoop and claim the last slow dance.
I drank too much dutch courage to charm and to impress.
I thought I'd broke mi duck one night with " Bernard" in a dress.
I sobered up quite quickly, it came as such a shock.
To be smootchin' in the dark, with a fella in a frock.
I should have noticed sooner, the penny should have landed.
She had a deeper voice than me and was rather largely handed.
It took me such a long- long time to get mi dance card stamped.
The only style I ever had was hurried, rushed and cramped.
Hopeless in a nightclub because I could n't dance.
Is it any wonder, I never stood a chance ?
The cool guys moving on in there with John Travolta speed.
While I'm stuck in the middle, like Mr Bean on weed.
Graceful as a zeppelin, cool as a tank top.
Whilst everyone was getting down, I did the Lindy hop.
Then there was the chat up lines, I could n't get them out.
Stutterin' and stammerin' I never got a shout.
All my buddys seem to know, just when and how to flirt.
A pack of wolves in hot pursuit, of anything in a skirt.
A carnal feeding frenzy, to walk a lady home.
To get invited in for coffee and " Give the dog a bone."
I was n't even on the starting blocks, always out of luck.
It took me such a long time to finally break mi duck.
I tried that online dating lark, thought I'd have a go.
But the women use their profile pics, from twenty years ago.
It's such a disappointment, when you're waiting in a bar.
And in walks  " Dizzy blonde" from Blackburn, who looked just like mi "Ma."
I did n't recognize her, from her photo on the page, and she did n.t know who I was
Coz I'd lied about my age.
We did n't really hit it off; the date was bound to fail.
Me sipping on my G and T, her drinking pints of ale.
I looked for common interests, and probed for common ground.
But she drank me neath the table and never bought a round.
The evening was ending, and I was feeling kinda bad,
So she slung me o'er her shoulder, and poured me in a cab.
She said she'd  see me later, "Now that we're engaged".
And that I'd have to meet her folks and seven kids, and get the do arranged.
"I think you've got me wrong:" I said, you've failed to understand.
"When I  asked you would you CARRY me, I  did n't want your hand."
So I've given up on romance, and I'm living like a monk.
My plans to be a Gigolo are buried, lost and sunk.