Philosophy? I’ve missed my chance
with children leading me a dance.
Theology? Well, what d’you think,
when I’m just stuck here at the sink?
No time to study saints and sinners
twixt washing up and cooking dinners,
and as for Medicine and Law...
well you may think it quite a flaw
to be as ignorant as me.
Now Women’s Lib’s arrived, we’ll see!
Faustina, can you let me have an egg?
I’m making a pudding. Sid’s hurt his leg.
Georgina and Alfred have got in a fight
and torn all their clothes, oh my, what a sight!
I’m late for bingo too, you know,
It’s every Wednesday I go
and have you heard …
now! Not now!
O goddesses, cool my fevered brow.
This housewife’s trash I cannot bear.
I’m up the wall. I’m going spare.
I’m going then. I’ll not intrude.
Some people though are rather rude.
Oh dash – I mean: Goddam and hell!
Now, I’ve offended her as well.
let’s face it, girl, you’re really sunk.
Just one thing left: get roaring drunk.
The bottle leave!
You surely know
what we believe:
a woman’s better than a man,
in fact a man’s an also-ran.
Leave bottled courage to the males,
and go off to the clearance sales.
A new hat or a pair of shoes
will cure you of these woeful blues.
Bargains, bargains, bargains galore!
Bargains, bargains throughout the store!
Do they think that we’re all daft?
all fighting for straws or a place on the raft
to escape from a wreck that’s sinking, fast?
Are the goods here of their kind the last?
All for the profit of capitalist men!
When we take over, then … ah, then …
Watch it. Who’re you pushing, sister?
I know you …
My name’s Mephista.
Women’s Lib branch sec, that’s me.
You signed on yet?
Well, no, you see
I’ve been too busy in the house.
What are you, sister? Ms or mouse?
Sign here … and here … and here … and
Forty-five pence please. Here is “Spare
Rib”. A regular subscription?
Now for the rest of my prescription
They think it’s for men, but don’t be shy.
They’ll think I’m a tart.
it on, but use your knee
on a chatter-up, and you’ll find that he
will fold on the floor in a moaning heap.
You can wipe your shoes on the pitiful creep.
My husband’s at
A woman’s got the right to roam.
What you need, sister’s an affair.
Lesbian women are rather too rare,
but I’ll find you a harmless little boy
to use as your plaything and your toy.
The beauty parlour
Paint and powder’s just the thing
To get you ready for your fling.
Wrinkles all will fade away,
Faustina will not feel day
The only pounds
are weight. You mustn’t count the cash
if you mean to cut a dash.
I know my husband will be cross.
That man! Dead loss!
Forget your children, washing dishes.
You shall have your dearest wishes.
I promised you a youth.
Young and handsome.
What a night
You’ll have when you get him to bed,
more torrid far than anything you’ve read.
It’s a pill.
You don’t want love to make you … ill.
Pleasure should not add to women’s woes.
With this you won’t hear little toes
pattering nine months from now.
It’s pleasure free from pain – and how!
Look, sister, that’s the boy!
Mephista, he’s a joy
His legs are long, his bum is taut,
he’s the object of my thought.
He’s handsome too. His eyes are bright.
won’t tire throughout
Mephista, he’s the boy for me.
No-one else, but only he!
He’s not for you, he’s much too pure.
A virgin too, of that I’m sure.
His mother keeps him under lock.
Your hands will never touch …
Despair! and Death! and Woe is me!
No-one else will do but he!
When I suggested an affair,
I meant come down to Libbers’ lair.
Bunny boys are prancing there
dressed in little tails and skirts,
and sometimes only in their shirts –
bottomless waiters to serve at table,
and elsewhere too, if they are able.
One of these sweet boys will do
to make a raver out of you.
can have fun of ’em.
have none of
Help me put it by his bed.
I sometimes wish that I were dead.
The money that you’ve gone and spent …
The money that you kindly lent.
It wasn’t mine. You’d best repay
our movement ’ere the reckoning day.
Who cares for days? My mind’s on night.
This hi-fi will win him in spite
of all his mother’s loving care,
and I’ll enjoy delights so rare,
a virgin youth all fresh and sweet …
He’s coming. Move your dainty feet.
A lady smiled at me today,
I wonder who she was.
I sometimes kneel down here and pray
for a girl to love, because
love is wonderful they say –
in all the books it was.
Then why does Mummy tell me I
must never with a woman lie?
Some secret thing I there espy.
But what is this? Oh me, oh my!
Santa’s brought me this hi-fi.
You really are a little nit!
It wasn’t Santa sent you it.
Some woman’s seen you in the street
and sent to you this little treat.
She’s seen your
your golden hair, your chest, your thighs.
She likes your strong and manly frame –
I wish my fate could be the same!
She loves you, Boy!
what is love?
My mother says …
By heavens above,
if any woman fancied me
I’d kiss her quick, and then we’d see.
You lucky dog! Make no mistake,
an older woman’s thirst to slake
is marvellous for a virgin boy.
She’ll teach you things, how to employ
your body in love’s own sweet arts
before your spirit feels its darts.
But who is this?
My dearest sister
Faustina she, and I’m Mephista.
My sweetest youth,
be not afraid,
for though in truth
I’m no young maid,
I’ll teach to you
the arts of love,
I’ll love you true,
my own sweet dove.
So that was love, an interesting sensation,
and much more fun than …
Now I’ve possessed my pretty boy
my senses overflow with joy.
What’s this? What’s this? My
has fallen prey to women wild!
Woman long has been man’s prey,
but Liberation’s bright new day
has changed all that. We
On ideological grounds excuse
Faustina’s passion, her desire …
In truth, my very soul’s on fire!
I trained him up in solitude,
taught him that men’s desires were rude,
to worship afar a lady fair,
devote to her service all his care.
Woman’s not for his possession.
You’ve ruined it all with this foul session.
I kept him free of love’s black art,
and now you’ve broke a mother’s heart.
Boy’s Mother swoons
You’ll see him again another day.
Why bring me here? The noise! My head!
And who are these? The walking dead?
Their eyes are green, their lips are blue,
their hair is painted every hue.
And are they male or female, pray?
They shall inherit earth one day.
Punks they are, with spiky hair,
come to Women’s Libbers’ Lair.
But come on in and see the show.
It’ll really set your cheeks aglow.
Punks one and all, to great acclaim,
set their seal on lasting fame,
spitting, farting, and much worse –
too bad to tell to you in verse.
You’ll find the evening “rather ripping”.
We finish up with men a-stripping.
The women all will howl like furies.
No man who hears ’em feels secure, his
trousers off, his end in sight,
and we’ll have fun throughout the night.
We even drag ’em off the street
to give ourselves an extra treat.
I don’t think that’s very nice.
It’s Women’s Lib’s reply to vice.
We’ll make them
what they’ve got.
Have a reefer. Hash or pot?
My head is spinning,
but the mist is thinning..
My eyes are orbs of flame.
I quite forgot my love,
my pretty dove
but I’m true all the same.
This is his window.
Will he be in though?
My sweet! My pretty boy!
Answer me my joy!
How could you he so cruel?
I’ve been expelled from schoo-el
I’m under lock and key.
She will make sure of me
and my fidelity.
Oh fish! I’m really sunk!
She’s making me a monk!
MOTHER from upstairs window:
You depraved him!
I have saved him!
of Part I
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