Tom Jones plays Cardiff International Arena tonight
Along Came Jones
Alighting from the cars
Down Mary Ann Street
In a clip-clop rush
Of pony feet.
Their handbags stuffed
With mobile phones
All bubble-cuts
And helpless moans
They were normal once
Then along came Jones
Jones the Voice
From Pontypridd.
A local, vocal monolith
A swivel of the hips
A pucker of the lips
To loosen catches
Hooks and zips
As women of a certain age
Rain underwear
Upon the stage Straight to the States
And rightly so
Could have been a
rockstar
Didn't want to know.
Far too many little boys
Smoking Tunis
Toblerones
Worth his weight
In microphones
Vegas waited.
Along came Jones
The knickers?
They're a legend now
To wipe the sex-god's
Soaking brow.
It's not unusual
With Tom Jones
This monarch of
The Glenda zones
He must be
Drinking pheromones
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