Bridge It, Jones By Jane Foster

The archetypal Bridget Jones Wants less flesh around her bones To look like all the movie clones, That's our Bridget Jones. And every bar where'er you roam Has turned into a Bridget zone With cappuccino ice-cream cones To bring in Bridget Jones.

And every man in every home Runs away when Bridget phones, They're sick of hearing Bridget moan, Poor old Bridget Jones. She's scared of being left alone, Without a man to call her own, To share her fizzy bathroom foam... Lonely Bridget Jones.

She listens whilst some fella drones About flash cars and second homes In irritating monotones, Tired Bridget Jones. So why not try and risk it, Jones? Step into the great unknown, Come into your very own... Just be Bridget, Jones.

Copyright ©Feb 2004  Jane Foster

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