Oh phooey! … I’m a failure as a Fairy,
I need to go to a Fairy Fat Farm,
Or maybe to ”June Dally Watkin’s”,
To revitalise my faulty Fairy charms.
I’m an over forty … flabby-thighed Fairy,
Furiously flapping feigning featherless flight,
Aerodynamically compromised by excess baggage,
Wondering how I’ll make it home tonight.
I can no longer achieve lift off,
Despite trying Fairy hard to fly,
I’ve even resorted to a running start to launch myself,
But now taking drugs is the only way for me to get high.
It used to upset me that one day I may not soar,
I hate staying at home hanging around,
But I’d probably get tangled in power lines these days,
Then left there … till I rot and fall down.
I don’t flitter and I don’t flutter,
I fumble and I fart,
I’m the laughing stock of Fairydom,
And it’s breaking my big Fairy Floss heart.
So I’ve started mingling with human beings,
Goodness gracious me … they are strange,
In comparison to Fairies … humans are Fairy barbaric,
Which means that I won’t have to change.
When humans fraternise with Fairies,
The Fairy must always be on top,
If Fairies lay on their backs … their wings can get crushed,
Flatten a Fairy’s wings … and the fornication will stop!
My gossamer Fairy wings are beginning to fray,
My Fairy’s wand is starting to droop,
My Fairy frock is faded and frumpy,
I’m about as graceful as a fly in soup.
By Fairy standards … I am Fairy unfit,
I am not willowy, fragile or Fey,
Every morning it’s harder to get out of bed,
Thus I sleep to well past midday most days.
I can be a fairly ferocious unfriendly Fairy,
Or frivolously frolicking having Fairy fun,
I swear and curse and throw Fairy tantrums,
Sometimes it’s the only way to get my Fairy work done.
I don’t wear satin slippers upon my Fairy feet,
Nowadays they are firmly planted on the ground,
I wear Blunstones or steel capped work boots,
When kicking arse … they can be Fairy useful I have found.
It’s Fairy Fairy difficult to be continually cheerful,
Diligent … benevolent and kind,
I am often foolish, forlorn and forgetful,
I’m obviously loosing my frigging Fairy mind.
So … I’m a Fairy who acts like a Floozy,
Drinking strong liquor and staying out late,
Smoking pot or dropping acid,
My Fairy appetites more increasingly difficult to satiate.
I’m not really keen on Fairy Bread,
I’m rather partial to Continental fair,
A rich Pasta or German sausage on a bun,
As long as the garlic and spices are there.
I know that it’s Fairy unFairy-like,
But it’s really just a matter of Fairy taste,
As I put on weight from indulging my Fairy whims,
I can keep an eye upon my expanding Fairy waste.
I no longer look good in frills and feathers,
I’m starting to resemble mutton dressed as lamb,
I’ve been accused of being a fraudulent Fairy,
But I ams … what I ams … what I ams!