Sayonara Michael
O I have no charisma
O I am drained of plasma
I have no true machismo
My world is a miasma
O I possess no glamour
No moral and no fibre
My speeches are inflamma
But up a private Khyber
O yes I sank his U-Boa
Was Boris’s torpedo
Why hint that I’m a bubo
With minimal libido
Why paint me as a namby
Whose guts won’t make a garter
As gauche as baby Bambi?
I’m strictly a non-starter
I stand for all the prattlers
Whose tongues are pure saliva
I know I’m not Charles Atlas
I’m hardly worth a fiver
Here is my last Da Sousa
No scruple, no compunction
But this: I am a loser
Give me your final unction
I stand here, I’m abysma
A dismal old persona
For I have no charisma
And my fide isn’t bona
