He wanted to be a Toreador He’d bought a suit of light He practised with his mother’s cape Nearly every single working night He could perform The Veronica With a certain style and grace Always maintaining the required Look of haught there on his face He felt close to perfection Felt he’d reached his peak just needed to face a first bull Within the next few week From his base in Macclesfield That place he held dear as home Prospect he knew were limited Just knew he’d have to roa.] He hitched down the motorway Ended up at the docks in Hull Found an economy cabin on A ferry that wasn’t very full He ended up in Europort And did he feel a fool Wished he’d learned his geography Back home in school Holland was another country Full of new and different sights But sadly he soon realised They didn’t stage bull fights He found a job in Amsterdam In a place maybe just a little tacky But to his delight he found It stocked lots of wacky baccy He has a new life there now One of relative bliss and ease Just himself and his new girl To consider and to please Bulls are all safe now I think He spends each and every night Wrapped there in his lady’s arms Both giggling high as kites The moral of this story is He now leads a life so rich and full If he’d learned his geography right He’d have ended up fighting bulls