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Writer's pictureNigel Smith

Svetlana 2

Oh Svetlana, Svetlana my mail-order Bride

my bargain Babushka as tall as you're wide,

I remember hoping our new love would grow,

watching you waddle off the Minsk to Heathrow

that first time we met I had to quickly decide

if it was 'all you' or were there 4 more inside

I rang the Agency but there was no disputing

I'd ticked the box to accept one like Rasputin

On our wedding night I confess I was wary,

in bed with a Power-lifter can be a bit scary

add lingerie size small, it becomes quite shocking,

stood burpin' Borsht with only one stocking!

Tho lacking in looks she had plenty of weird

flexing her muscles and grooming her beard,

she could often be found turning out my pockets

demanding to know where we kept all our rockets;

that we weren't compatible was patently clear,

as I watched her empty a full crate of beer,

which she washed down with vodka or rum

trying to seduce me by wiggling her Bum

She told me she'd worked for the KGB

but left for the fried chicken at KFC

that she was lonely and in a bit of a fix

missing pals and chasing Pigs with sticks

she tried to sing and entered the X-fctor

with a song about love for an old rusty Tractor,

but her voice was like gravel inside a Spin-dryer,

and the judges fled hearing “now I sing higher!”

Finally, from the decadent West she departed,

back to Minsk where her love-quest had started,

I still have nightmares of her Kiss-puckered lips

from which vinegar dripped and she fed me chips

how by the ankles I'd be spun a la Cosmonaut

she laughing, as my head the door-knob caught

but despite all I smile, thinking of her shoulders

carrying her favourite horse,as she smashes boulders.

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