Popjustice ran a competition to win one of 20 pairs of Beyoncé tickets for her “secret” (quite well-publicised) post-Glastonbury show in London. To win, one had to write a poem about Mrs -Z.
At the risk of being told to “have a sit down with my ego”, I am literally flabbered and ghasted that my effort was not a winner.
Why does Beyoncé say that she’s a broken-hearted girl?
She’s crazy in love with Jay-Z, and she run the flipping world.
And why does she demand Jay-Z pays all her telephone bills?
She’s the one calling Gaga long distance from Beverley Hills.
“Say my name, say my name,” she cries, in a voice that don’t half pierce,
Poor Jay-Z can’t remember if it’s Beyoncé or Sasha Fierce.
“Can you keep up?” she taunts, jumpin’ jumpin’ on the floor,
Beseeching he “PUT A RING ON IT”; then beating him at Connect 4.
A right naughty girl she is, but bootylicious nonetheless,
He can’t say “no no no” to her when she’s in that spangly dress.
A beautiful liar, a dreamgirl, she wears a halo full of charm -
But when it sets her hair on fire it’s Jay-Z who has to ring the alarm.