OK so where's SMacca?
I swear I'm going to smack her
She said she's come and play
But then she went away
Promised myself a night of enjoyment
Instead I spent it in employment
And not that of a useful kind
Catching up on what's behind
Spent it writing useless rhymes
Wasting time is such a crime
If she comes out to play anon
She'll be too late and find me gone
I'll be watching Question time
Whilst cuddling that dog of mine
I won't be back in a hurry
Tomorrow I'm watching Murray
Got to help to get him through
Concentrate tell him what to do
And telepathy leaves me zonked
When that last tennis ball is plonked
over the net, game set and match
Some shut eye I'll need to catch
Ready for the big final
When strawberries and wine'll
Be the order of the day
On Sunday I will have to play
The best game of my life
And end our nation's strife
Yes Sunday will be a historic day
When Andy takes that cup away
But he will never ever know
His place in history he owes
To me and my telepathic brain
I'll even use it to stop the rain
Oh dear I lost the thread a bit
I was saying something, what was it?
Oh yeah, So where were you SMacca?
Smoking wacky bacca?
Or drinking wine and feeling fine?
While I was waiting here online
You are a naughty SMacca
Oh forget all that she's back Ah
