The day you broke my teapot is the day you broke my heart.

 

Wicked wretch, horrid human,

Christ!

How you crucified my

Crockery, no apology,

Only mockery,

Oh Francis,

There’s nowt saintly about you!

 

Zounds! You insufferable oaf!

And quite right too

That you

Should hang your

Head in shame, like the

Cursèd crown imperial you are,

Ah yes, thou sodden-witted lump,

Listen to what I have to say –

 

You can’t run,

You can’t hide,

And there’s not a

Racing car in the

World that could shake off my

Choler,

Dear child,

You are not worth another word.