Ibstock - A Poem

Ange has gone away for the night

And I'm left here with that heap of shite

She's gone to somewhere called Ibstock

And I'm left here with that pillock

She's had to go because of work

So I'm left here with that great jerk

To feed me if he doesn't forget

But probably will because he's so wet

Yes to Ibstock's where she's gone

And so I find myself put upon

To sit here with a heavy heart

To sit and listen to him fart

Whilst playing his progressive rock

And she's away in damned Ibstock

I really miss her, yes I do

I think he has just followed through

I hope that she comes back real soon

So I'm not alone with this buffoon

I want her back, I want her here

And not this bloated sack of beer

And so I wait and watch the clock

Until Ange comes back, from Ibstock