Alchemisland

Ceiling’s vaulted in the main gaff

Got special bread like a celiac

Blind like Cilla’s kind

Serious at cooking been compared to Delia like

Delia-lite with the cokeen and bakelite

No such thing as a safe night

Patrolling outside like the dark knight

Once the moon ignites my droogs take flight

The stuff our brooms consume produce fumes

I inhale it, get my spume

Around the cauldron and suck away, courting flavour

I want succour, full butter, double custard

And lashings of pudding, trotters, udders

Raw bloody or roasting from the oven

I don’t care, no talking while I’m eating, don’t even mutter

Type of shit bring shame on you, have you bolting tight the shutters

Turning over Padre Pio, and your disapproving Castilian mother

Don’t trust me with your armada, brother, I’ll steal your mother if I could

Too hot blooded to be cus-y

Or too cushy with anyone so don’t fuss it’s not personal, no vanity

Why do you care anyway? Do you fancy me?