I really love to party, to drink, to dance, have fun,
It’s the people I cant tolerate, all things said and done.
They always want to teach you, to do your thing their way.
They always think they’re better, and they’re not afraid to say.
My daddy is a banker, they have the first letter wrong,
My father’s in the army, do you want to see his gong?
It’s then I’m at a loss for words, I don’t know what to utter,
And when I do, it comes out wrong and I begin to stutter.
Well, my old man’s a dustman, I only say it to be funny.
Which makes me appear less to you, cos he hasn’t any money.
My mother though, she knows the law, she’s a barrister.
But actually, she makes the coffee, as a Starbucks barista.
So, in this world, this snobbish hell, where money does the talking.
I go to all the posh old do’s, to do a bit of stalking.
They’ve got degrees in useless stuff, things that aren’t too smart.
Philosophy and media, or history of art,
But what these toffs, they do not know, the thing that defines me,
I studied medicine and psychiatry, got me a PhD.
For all their airs and graces and looking down their nose.
I’m not quite the underdog, not like they would suppose.
So, I mingle as I party, whilst taking careful notes,
And later, when they’re on my couch, relate their anecdotes.
©Joseph R Mason