Freudian Slips

Chopin's bolonaise was rather nice on the palate,
a laptop dancer joked: 'You're not carrying the wait,'
someone said souvenirs were for cutting the hedge,
talking about private parts turned into meat and two veg.

Raising chickens was a rare thing, didn't often happen,
don't put butter on your graffiti stick - you don't listen,
I'm going to the Amalfi boast, nothing to brag about, I suppose,
went to cinema, saw: 'Dancing with Dingos,' only a dog knows.

Her head had been shorn, teaching Shaun or Shawn,
wasn't that a place in France - Charles, mowing the lawn,
the Queen had been raining a long time, betweeen showers,
but gave a pardon after royal wee brought some flowers.

Nimbyism just turned out to be: not in my bed yessir,
although the blackyard was probably another racial slur.