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With her button cardy soft tummy She pressed to me to the netball wall
Four foot of warm milk muscle and allsorts I was her boyfriend for playtime.
Not Mark who could draw Vikings Or Keith who could kick a long way Or the other Toms and Dicks who Could jump and play cards.
Denise loved me and my crying
and my frightened and my can’t eat dinner And my running away fast and my stories And my mittens and most of all my me And my engines.