My Man

Am I Bovvered?

He sits in front of t' telly
In his slippers and his vest
Balancing a beer can on his belly
He puts my patience to the test

He fiddles with the remote controls
And flicks between the channels
He smokes the fags he always rolls
They smell like mucky flannels

He takes the dog out for a walk
So he can nip t' pub
He never thinks I'd like to talk
Whilst he's shovelling down his grub

He goes to footie to watch the game
He supports a team called Chelsea
He doesn't always recall my name
Last night he called me Elsie

He tried to get fresh the other night
All night he fussed and hovered
He said he'd like to hold me tight
I said "I can't be bovvered"

You may think things aren't too clever
When you read this little verse
But I married him till death us part
For better or for worse

I'm not bovvered that he's lazy
And he doesn't comb his hair
And although he drives me crazy
I'd be bovvered if he weren't there

©Marian Barker