All my Hunnic brothers told me not to get involved with a Sarmatian.
I paid no heed to my tribesman or shaman.
I was seduced by our shared interest of battles, raids and horses.
This led to small talk about vanquishing our foes and looting their resources.
She looked real fine
on the the bus 59.
We were on our way on this fine stallion to the station of Waterloo
lookin' out of the window at the London Eye, admiring the view.
I did not listen to my Hunnic brothers
they told me Sarmatian women cannot be compared to others.
Her smile and cheek bones were divine
I threw her over my shoulder and made her mine.
I took her to my yurt
and thought she was a sort.
As I caressed her flowing hair
She gazed at me with an azure eyed stare.
I embraced her lithe body with zest,
her claws shredded my deel revealing my battle-scarred chest.
A night I will not forget filled full of barbaric thrust,
two bodies entwined in Hunnic-Sarmation lust.
I got up with a massive grin the next day,
she was gone, I secretly longed her to stay.
Where are you now my Sarmatian woman of Amazon?
Why did you leave me in such torment all alone?
In south London, whenever I see a 59 Bus
I remember in life there coulda been an
us.In my mind's eye I see you crushing your enemies astride your stallion,
Fortunately, I have forgotten about you now, I just met a Maiden, a beautiful Cimmerian.