Beans on toast

My baby spent all my money,
She want the finer things in life
I loved my pretty baby,
So I let her buy the stuff
But now she’s gone
and all I got left to
eat is baked beans on
my burnt black toast

My baby didn’t go no place
that had no gold stars,
classy woman liked fancy bars,
driven to them in fancy cars
but now I know
she loved that life
more than me
and my beans on toast

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Filed under Birmingham, blog, England, life, live, London, love, nature, nostalgia, Poem, poetry, reflection, romance, romanticism, uk

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