You might think you want to hold me

You might like to think that you'd like to scold me

Even believe that you could control me

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You fantasize you'd like to get me alone

Do you imagine that you could own me?

Well that's a weakness that I've outgrown

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Fill in the blanks

You silly little man

Fill in the blanks

Get down and kneel

Turn on your heel

'Cos my ideal is more genteel



And I won't be told be new recruits

Not to drop my "aitches"

Or to show my roots

'Cos you're not fit to lick

my lovely little leather boots

What's the matter are you queer?

Or isn't that what you wanted to hear?



On your imitation leather sofa

In your knocked-off suit

And your penny loafers

And a foreign film that you had such hopes for

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Adjani, Dalle and Fanny Ardant

He says "All those French birds give me a hard-on"

Suffer me as I beg to differ while you beg their pardon



...Fill in the blanks

You silly little man

Fill in the blanks

Get down and kneel

Turn on your heel

'Cos my ideal is more genteel

Fill him in now!