She was just a red glow in the gutter,
Alone, perhaps lonely like him;
His heart simply melted like butter;
Her light made all others seem dim. But tonight he would not be requited;
Her warm love could never be Reg’s
For he was a lonely glow worm
And she was a Benson and Hedges.

He asked did she come here often,
Asked if she fancied a drink;
She might perhaps like a light ale;
No reply; not a nod; not a wink.

She was just a red glow in the gutter,
Smouldering; sultry; aloof.
Not one single word did she utter,
And Reg never guessed at the truth.

His heart was aflame with desire,
But her fire was a pyre; it was Reg’s;
For he was a lonely glow worm
And she was a Benson and Hedges.

He desperately wanted to know her,
There in the big city night;
And there, like a moth to the flame,
Reg was drawn to the light.

She was just a red glow in the gutter,
A beacon of love in the mist;
She lay where some smoker had put her
And Reg could no longer resist.

He burned more than his fingers that evening;
Now he carries a torch with scorched edges,
For he was a lonely glow worm
And she was a Benson and Hedges.

He fell like a fool for a cigarette,
For passion can have strange effects
And his contact lenses were missing,
And a tortoise had trod on his specs.

She was just a red glow in the gutter,
Unmoved by wit, wisdom or wealth,
Sat a firefly on fire and a-flutter
And seriously damaged his health.

All she left was a small pile of charcoal;
Remember those embers are Reg’s,
For he was a lonely glow worm
And she was a Benson and Hedges.