by Georgie
As time went on, I began to develop a mysterious syndrome, akin to that demonstrated by Pavlov's Dogs...i.e. whenever I saw a picture of Ron, I thought of food (and consequently, whenever I saw a picture of Ron I started to salivate...I know, I know...what's new?)
Such was the intensity of feeling associated with this affliction, I was moved to express myself poetically, and so, with tongue firmly in cheek (and it sure is hard to chew that way), I offer up my gastronomic eulogy to Mr Harper:
Whom Georgie fell in love with, o'er a plate of Shepherd's Pie
I love you in the morning, you're great for Heaven's sakes
I love you with my buttered toast and with my whole Bran Flakes
Oh, my sweetest darlin', my arms for you are achin'
Allow me to admire you, while I eat my eggs and bacon
As I drink my tea, I look at you, and think that I'm in heaven
You go so well with cookies and a cuppa at eleven
I gaze upon your dimpled cheeks, like a baby's bum newborn
As I eat my lunchtime sandwiches, made with that stuff from Quorn
I love your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your hips, your knees
I am welling with emotion, as I eat my bread and cheese
You look so lovely, sweetie, you really are a beaut
Come closer; I can study as I nibble on my fruit
I love you so completely, I am feeling cock-a-hoop
I even love you as I slurp my minestrone soup
You make me go a-tingle, you make me shake and shiver
You make me choke upon my veg, and cough upon fried liver
I love it when you smile at me, Ronaldo, please don't stop
I love to see those luscious lips, as I eat my lamb chop
That strong and handsome jawline, that heroic clefted chin
Oh, Lordy, please excuse me whilst I pour myself a gin
Your Virdon hair flows freely; it looks wonderful, of course
It looks just like spaghetti, in a Carbonarra sauce
My sweetheart, I am dreaming of those red and fulsome lips
They remind me of the ketchup that I squirt upon my chips
Your good looks are enchanting, what more could one gal wish
With brains and charm to compliment, like tartare sauce with fish
And after dinner, sweetheart, of your handsome face I dream
I could eat you up like apple pie, all covered in whipped cream
I love you, precious baby, I couldn't lie for toffee
I love you when I'm pouring out my after-dinner coffee
Your hazel eyes are beautiful, of blue there's just a hint
I'm drowning in them as I suck my after-dinner mint
You're so delicious, sweet one, you're simply the divine
Accompaniment for supper, washed down with a glass of wine
And at bedtime, what is better, at least I'd dare to think
Than toasting you 'goodnight', Ron, with a warming chocolate drink
The end
