Its student night down in Man Poly bar,
A girl with clothes no bigger than
a postage stamp with the queen in horror,
at these wanton bitches who’ve gone too far.
A girl with a skirt that skirts the definition
Of skirt, silk knickers on full display.
A sheer blouse makes excuses for a bra,
Breasts that plea for the light of day.
Standing to attention in a military style,
Enticing the trouser soldiers to come out and play.
Face painted, cheeks tainted, warpaint regime,
Slapped on, plastered, L’Oreal.
Lipstick staining, snogtime training,
Spider lashes, face from Hell.
Hair on point, that perfect barnet,
Hairspray choking, asthma killer.
Student starving, money all gone,
‘Cos she paid for a titjob and botox filler.
The lad is lairy, beer filled, cheery,
Looking for a shag if he digs for gold.
Using, musing, cruising for a bruising’,
Waiting for tequila shots to take their hold.
Long hair, short hair, alternative or goth,
Parading his affiliation on the heavin’ dancefloor.
Big boys, small boys, good boys, bad boys,
A label doesn’t matter when you know the score.
The drink flows freely like a river of oblivion,
Pints are necked and class doesn’t matter.
Snakebite, shots and dodgy cocktails,
Wallets getting slimmer and the tills getting fatter.
And volume doesn’t count when you’re trying to get laid,
Though you better love your pecker if you’re going for the latter.
Their bodies writhing to the pulsing beat
Heaving, breathing, seductive moves.
Girl watching boy watching girl watching him,
Trying to get some intimacy in between the grooves.
And a hand that gets too friendly and a girl who stands her ground,
And an incident that in reality is hard to prove.
And the night is getting older and the noise is getting louder,
And the joy is getting manic and the anger getting frantic,
And the boy is getting desperate for a screw for the night,
And the girl just wants a moment where her life could be romantic.
And I know these stereotypes are a little bit sexist
But these were long gone times and the craic was fantastic.
And she thinks of student nights and she thinks back very fondly,
She thinks how irresponsible they all could be.
But a good drink, a good shag, a good time had by all,
And she never had it better, ‘never did any harm to me’.
And the memories caress her like the times that she scored,
and the laughs and the tears and the comradery.
The nights she lost at Man Poly Uni.
In the days when she played and her conscience was free.