Shall I compare thee to a summer rose?
I’d rather be the woman from Nantucket,
I said if you wrote me sonnets of love,
I’d end up being sick in a bucket.
There are hundreds and thousands of songs
about Love, I’d quote them if I could.
But some people round here are very strict about that,
So I really don’t think that I should.
The B52s, the band, not the plane,
Said there was a shack down the lane.
A shack full of love, an intriguing thought,
But I’ll avoid it, thanks all the same.
The Undertones sang about chocolate and girls,
Two things which stop me feeling blue.
But Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithful
Claim the Mars bar story isn’t true
The Beatles said all I needed was love,
Even when I hit sixty four.
But they also claimed I’m the walrus,
So maybe they’re not my fab four.
Morrissy thought Mr Shankly a poet,
As poor and bloody awful as me.
But when the Smiths sang about love,
They never mentioned coming up for coffee.
I don’t want to be adored,
Like the Stone Roses and Ian Brown sing.
And those songs about love and obsession,
I don’t want to be your everything.
Love will tear us apart, said Ian Curtis,
As he danced like a demented duck.
You don’t always need somebody to love,
Sometimes you just need someone to fuck.
But what about the power of love?
Jennifer Rush or Huey Lewis and the News?
Maybe it’s all the flowers you send?
Next time, just send the booze.
Meatloaf said he’d do anything for love,
But then said he wouldn’t do that.
And while I always said you could be anything,
Please, please, please.. don’t be a twat.
