Old Bill the poet's wife Mandy doesn't love him
And she don't use kind words for him like 'dear'
You ask her where is Bill and she will tell you
He's at the pub he's seldom ever here.

He's at the pub reading his silly verses
To others who have less as him to do
They lead Bill on by saying how great his verse is
And Bill there is no greater poet than you.

But behind his back they smile and wink and snigger
'Oh' Bill poor Bill there's none so naive as he
And he feels so proud and flattered by their praises
That all the falseness in them he can't see.

You ask her why she wed him in the first place?
'Oh' I was young and green as green can be
And I felt flattered by his silly verses
Those silly verses that he wrote for me.

And Bill to this day persist with the notion
That one day he will be a famous poet
He take his poems to publishers they tell him
'So sorry we can't publish what you've wrote'.

He seldom worked or helped out with the children
'You might say that I raised them on my own'
His favoured job to walk along the river
In search of inspiration for a poem.

You ask her then why did she live on with him?
With four young children what else might I do
And what man in his right mind now would want me
Gray haired and missing teeth and sixty two

But Bill in some ways is a gentle person
He never beat me 'poets are not that way'
It's just that he persist with the strange notion
That wealth and fame will come to him one day.

Young woman stay away from poets and their type
For writing verse is 'hungry belly game'
They have these dreams of living off their writings
'Self delusion for want of a better name'.

For I should know as I talk from experience
And best I can offer you is bread and tea
For forty years been married to a poet
And all I've known with him is poverty.

Love is long dead between the poet and Mandy
And she don't use words for him such as 'dear'
You ask her about Bill and she will answer
He's in the pub he's seldom ever here.

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