Out of The Rovers she followed them
With a stiletto heel and a massive zit;
His bride was like a dancer in the cage,
Tina McIntyre looking fit!
‘David!!’ Gail – his mum – screeched,
With smiles, almost with tears;
‘May Kylie and you but live as true
And celebrate with lots of beers.
‘Your father, Martin Platt, 25 years ago
Had just your tale to tell;
He wasn’t as bad a criminal as you,
Not destined for a prison cell.’
David Platt as gormless as ever,
Kylie was orange with tan and pride.
David gazed at Tina’s bum
And wished she was his bride.
‘Oi, I got you a present, David,
I’ve got you a gift,’ she said;
To bless the couple, to bless them both
She poured a pint over his head.
‘Here’s the hoop earrings you got me for Xmas
That you robbed from The Cabin;
Here’s the knife back that you used
After you gave that guy a stabbin’.
‘Here’s my half of our faded flowers
That cost you £2.99 from Dev’s,
Leaning against his outside brick wall
With the spanner you robbed from Kev’s.’
She hit him, he hit her back,
He faltered in his place.
‘Bitch,’ he said, ‘Tina – ’ he said,
‘Teen – ’ and hid his face.
She turned to Kylie. ‘My lady Kylie,
I have a gift for you.’
She poured another pint on her head
Which wet her all the way through.
‘Take my share of a fickle heart,
Take my sloppy seconds.
I don’t think you’ll last that long,
He’ll bin you soon, I reckons!’
‘Why don’t you leave?’ said Kylie,
‘Leave the street for good!
He’s my babe, for better or worse,
I hope you’ve understood.’