I’m Johnnie to her Fanny
If you’re old, you’ll understand
It’s my job when she performs
to make sure things go just as planned
When she’s reading out her poems
I ensure they are in order
If the venue is too hot I must
make sure she has fresh water
If it’s cooking tasty flat breads
the ingredients I must pass
and when cooking them ensure that
we do not run out of gas
Her last gig was unusual
life modelling came from her page
before I knew it, there I stood
buck naked, on the stage
Unlike TV’s unhappy pair
(I know that this sounds corny)
I’m really happy she’s my Fanny
I’ll always be her Johnnie