PLASTIC-TROUSER GIRL

Plastic-trouser girl,

She’s my

Plastic-trouser girl.

The mornings are getting darker,

The temperature’s begun to fall,

Water’s thrashing against the window,

It’s hardly any fun at all.

But my girl needs to go out,

And stand around in the worst of it.

Because she has a train to catch,

And commuting’s really… a bit rubbish really.

Plastic-trouser girl,

She’s my

Plastic-trouser girl.

But she has her solution,

To keep the dampness out.

Upstairs I hear her dressing,

With lots of thrashing about.

There’s thudding and swearing and hollering

Which leaves me in little doubt.

Soon she’ll be coming down the stairs

Fully armoured for going out.

Plastic-trouser girl,

She’s my

Plastic-trouser girl.

Now you may have strange notions,

About wearing Polyurethane,

But having that many layers on,

Rules out thoughts of antics obscene.

Wrapped up against the elements,

With layer upon layers galore,

She’s confident she’ll be toasty warm,

When the rain begins to pour.

Plastic-trouser girl,

She’s my

Plastic-trouser girl.

Standing on the platform,

Painfully waiting for her train,

She’s snuggled up inside her clothes,

Almost oblivious to the rain.

So when she finally gets to work,

And drips upon their carpet,

There’ll be an ordeal of extrication,

But at least she’s not got wet.

Plastic-trouser girl,

She’s my

Plastic-trouser girl.

So when the wind it starts to blow,

And the leaves begin to whirl,

She’ll reach into a certain cupboard,

To find plastic clothing to unfurl.

Whilst mother nature in all her fury,

Tries hurling raindrops at the world,

Standing defiantly and smugly,

Will be my plastic-trousered girl.

Plastic-trouser girl,

She’s my

Plastic-trouser girl.