HUBERT

Hubert was the perfect boy,
He was his mother's pride and joy.
Short-trousered still in his seventeenth year,
To boy scout lore did he adhere.

Helped old ladies cross the road
Whilst reciting the Green Cross Code.
Doffed his cap to military types,
His favourite four-letter word was 'cripes!'

Didn't squeeze his spots or soil the sheets,
Never at onions for fear of repeats,
Nor speak to strange men offering sweets.

Neat and brushed and well behaved,
Worked hard and got outstanding grades.
Followed the rule book to the letter,
There wasn't a single boy was better.

Yet Hubert couldn't get the girls.
They preferred little Willy's curls.

The girls...