Mandy, save me; break up the tedium
Challenge me in the poetical medium
Let’s put our brains through a literary mangle
And write about shoes that go over the ankle
I’m not a shoe fan, but I see they sit prettily
Footwear made to be shaped just like Italy
Raise up the heel, slim the leg, shape the calf
Make legs look sexier by 50% (half)
Apparently, boots are made for walking
And apparently, that’s just what they’ll do
But ask any lady – she’ll tell you you’re crazy;
They must look frickin’ amazing too
I don’t know designers, fashion’s a language
Je ne comprends pas sans le poisson de Babel
Please don’t despise me, please just advise me…
Why must they have such an expensive label?
This is poetry; please don’t expect me to sing
Do a dance or play a piano
Like when you’re out shopping for boots, I don’t think
I’d EVER see you in the aisles of Brantano?
Maybe, by chance, I mistook what you wanted?
Perhaps you want football boots, and not shoes?
Tell me I’m right please, slip on some Nikes
And forget the Nine Wests, Jones, Aldo’s and Choo’s…
Seriously Mandy, you’d still look fantastic
In cheapo boots made of degradeable plastic
But if you could see all the chavs round my way
In honour of them I’d sing out and say:
“Uggs, Uggs, glorious Uggs
Nothing quite like them for tracksuited thugs”
Blinged up to the nines, fake tans, cheap perfume
They look like the first part of a Womble costume!