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Brown Sauce Blues


Now I'm just a simple fellow
And what I like the most
Is a dollop of brown sauce
Spread on me breakfast toast.
You can keep your marmalades
Jams and your various spreads
Just give me  a  bottle of HP sauce
Cos I'd rather have that instead
Not served in a plastic bottle cos
At times they can suddenly spurt
And before you really know it
You have sauce all over your shirt.

No, served  from a glass bottle
It flows in a steady  stream
That mixes with your hot butter
To provide a culinary dream.
You can keep your haute cuisine
Because what I enjoy the most
Is lashings of hot butter mixed with
The brown sauce  on me toast
They looked at me in horror
Breakfasting at this posh caff
And one of them had cheek
To just stand there and laugh

And then to make doubly sure
Me and me habits weren't seen
They went and put me table
Behind a large folding screen
I find it rather irksome that
The breakfast  for which I lust
Is regarded by so many as a
Habit of loathsome disgust.
No, I'm just a simple fellow
And what I like the most
Is a dollop of brown sauce
Spread on me breakfast toast.







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