Reality

For the benefit of International Baccalaureate Theory of Knowledge students, I have copied Reality to this more prominent location.

Reality.

I was walking on the street.
A big white van drove past.
I could see it clearly;
It was not moving fast.

"Reality" was written
On the big van's side.
I wanted it to stop for me
And take me for a ride.

I started to run after it,
But it went round the bend.
My chance had come, but now that chance
So soon came to an end.

So I am stuck here in this world,
Which is not really real.
You might think it's genuine;
That's not the way I feel.

We have a Queen and mobile phones;
Don't you think it's odd?
We've scientific method,
But most believe in God.

So I am stuck here just like you,
With fake women and men,
Unless I can discover
That big white van again.

*

Fear of Reality

I was walking on new ground,
Industrial estate.
I saw a sign, "Reality",
And thought, "Oh wow, that's great."

Here's a chance to be somewhere
I've never been before,
Just walk up to that office
And walk in through that door.

Then I thought of past mistakes
That made me swear and curse.
If I left this false world,
The real one might be worse.

So I thought, "No need to rush,
There'll be another day."
And so I passed Reality
And went upon my way.

*

Golden Age

We're now living longer
Than we did in the past.
Looking at the stuff we own
Our wealth is really vast.

Diseases that once killed us
Are well under control.
Instead of letting people starve
We can afford the dole.

Children now grow taller
Than they ever did before.
Electronic media
Mean life is not a bore.

Political correctness laws
Might succeed or fail,
But are a big improvement
On sending gays to jail.

Most of us have freedom,
We call nobody, "master".
We're living in a Golden Age.
It feels like a disaster.

Looking Good

Looking Good.

First you have an earring,
Just see how it goes,
Then you have another ring,
And put it through your nose.

Then you have some more rings,
And if you're feeling hip,
Have a few more in your ears,
And one right through your lip.

Decorate your body
With a small tattoo,
Then have sev'ral others done,
Until they cover you.

If you still feel common,
If you still feel dull,
Shave off all your head hairs,
Have tattoos on your skull.

Have a stud right through your tongue,
Wear outrageous pants,
Enhance your lovely body
With huge breast implants.

Have rings in your nipples,
Have your friends in fits,
Have some major metalwork
In your naughty bits.

Diet and take exercise
For a great physique.
End up lean and muscly,
Like a steroid freak.

Have a major facelift,
And work done on your eyes,
So that you can have that look
Of permanant surprise.

Adapt these things I'm saying
To your special case,
If you want to look like
A thing from outer space.

*

Height.

When I was much younger,
And I do not boast,
I was fairly skinny,
Lankier than most.

Now that I am older,
I've been living right.
I'm a man of average weight
And of average height.

If I live much longer,
An interesting thought,
I will be quite heavy
And relatively short.

*

Domestic Violence Song.

Never hit a woman,
Except in self defence.
No excuse that you feel low
And your mood's intense.

Never hit a woman,
Just because you can,
Or you want to prove to her
That you are a man.

Never hit a woman;
It's not the thing to do
To prove that you're a Muslim,
A Christian or a Jew.

Never hit a woman;
Don't smash her in the face,
Just to show her who's the boss
And keep her in her place.

Never hit a woman,
Or throw her down the stairs,
Just to show that she's alone
And no-one really cares.

Never hit a woman,
Or stand upon her throat,
Just because she's got a job
And she's got the vote.

Never hit a woman,
Or kick her up the bum.
A man who hits a woman
Is filthy, rotten scum.

*

Diets.

In olden times, if you ate meat,
You had to be quite trim and neat.
If dinner, lunch or tea were prey,
It always tried to run away.

In olden times if you ate plants,
You had to have two sets of pants.
Your fatness was for this good reason:
Every year, a famine season.

So evolution worked just great,
Your build arose from what you ate.
The world has changed in many ways,
But that's still true in modern days.

To put this point a little blunter,
Convince your body you're a hunter.
Then you'll be both thin and hale,
While all the other diets fail.

(The above is for entertainment purposes only and does not constitute dietary or medical advice.)

*

Superyoung.

Why am I so young and lovely,
When all around are growing old?
Why are they so warm and giving,
When I'm indifferent and cold?

Fellows that I went to school with,
When we're out and having fun,
Women point to me and ask them,
"Tell me, sir, is that your son?"

Though I have few lines or wrinkles,
At least I've gone a little bald.
For my age it is quite normal;
"Premature" is what it's called.

I don't try to take advantage,
Never lie about my age.
This can lead to admiration,
Or to jealousy and rage.

I don't try to lack emotion;
None of this was ever planned.
Jealousy is just a concept.
Anger, I don't understand.

Why am I so young and lovely?
How did I become this way?
Actually, I know the answer:
It's down to luck and DNA.

**

Farmers' Song.

(This is a duet, each singer taking alternate verses and joining together for the final verse.)

We don't sail the ocean's deep;
We are farmers and we raise sheep.

We don't sail upon the seas,
But we expect huge sub-sid-ees.

We're not firemen, we're not cops;
We are farmers and we grow crops.

We don't lead you all in prayer.
We want cash from the taxpayer.

We won't offer to sell your house;
We are farmers and we raise cows.

We won't take you where it's sunny.
We demand more government money.

We're not people who sweep the street;
We are farmers and we grow wheat.

We don't run a nuclear plant,
But we want a government grant.

We don't run university courses;
We are farmers and we breed horses.

We don't come and take your trash,
But we want more government cash.

We don't operate on your brain;
We are farmers and we grow grain.

We're not artists or engravers;
We want the state to do us favours.

We don't sell you dogs or parrots;
We are farmers and we grow carrots.

We are farmers and we raise swine,
And we love to moan and whine.

Daft Ships

Daft Ships.

I was walking in Blackpool,
With nothing planned.
A pretty young woman
Took hold of my hand.

I looked at her;
She was looking away.
Neither of us
Had much to say.

We walked along;
We were part of a crowd.
Neither of us
Said things out loud.

We walked until
We stopped by a bus.
She looked at me,
Said, "Are you with us?"

I said, "No, not really,
"I am just with me,
"But I'm with your group
"If you want me to be.

"'Twas you took my hand,
"So don't call the cops.
"I've come into town
"To look at the shops."

She let go my hand,
"Said, "So, sorry, dear,
"But I have been drinking
"Your strong local beer.

"And drinking some wine,
"And some strong spirits too
"I'm so very sorry
"To have bothered you."

I smiled and I left,
Not feeling a fool.
These things just happen
In sunny Blackpool.

*

Blackpudlian.

I will be happy.
You will be free.
We will watch donkeys
Down by the sea.

A few days together
For you and me,
When I will love you
For a small fee.

*

Closing Time

They’ve now finished serving,
So drink up your beer.
We have homes to go to.
Let’s get out of here.

There’s chairs on the tables;
They’re sweeping the floor.
I get the strong feeling
We’re welcome no more.

The bar staff were smiling,
But that has now stopped.
The warmth of the welcome
Has certainly dropped.

The bar staff are restless,
For it’s getting late.
Once figures of fun,
We are figures of hate.

So they’re shouting at us.
They say we must go.
We once were their friends.
Now we’re the foe.

They must be quite strong
To carry us out
And throw us so far,
Of that there’s no doubt.

Just pick yourself up now.
You are quite a case.
I’ll see you tomorrow,
Same time, same place.

*

Bully.

Sat int the pub,
With a good pint of beer,
Heard someone shouting,
Both loud and clear.

Late in the evening,
Very few there,
Manager yelling,
With a mad stare.

Swearing and cursing,
I am afraid
That he was shouting
At the barmaid.

Thought of protesting
Like a drunk hero,
But I went home,
Like a drunk Nero.

A few days later,
Went there once more,
"Under new management",
Up on the door.

Same barmaid served me;
We had a craic,
Turns out the manager
Had got the sack.

So when you're drinking,
Just have a laugh.
Never get angry,
Or swear at the staff.

*

Rock Star.

Well, I'm the bass player in a rock 'n' roll band,
And I got to thinkin' that life is just grand.

(Chorus:
Oh yeah, the years may have taken their toll,
But I do not care, I'm always gonna rock 'n' roll.)

I've stopped drugs and boozin' to save my dear life,
And that ain't my daughter, that's my second wife.

(Chorus)

I don't much respect what goes on in her brain,
But I really love her, she goes like a train.

(Chorus)

I'm just a tiny bit bald and a little bit fat,
So I wear a girdle and a rock 'n' roll hat.

(Chorus)

I'm keeping my wrinkles, they are part of me,
And I'm far too cool to have face surg-eree.

(Chorus)

When I am much older, a little old gnome,
I will be rockin' the old people's home.

(Chorus. Big rock 'n' roll finish.)

*

Sheep.

He's well over fifty;
He's the big "I am".
He sings karaoke,
When he's had a dram.

If he was a woman,
Mutton dressed as lamb.
As it is he's really
Ham dressed up as ram.

*

Clubbers in Winter.

I admire young women,
Especially in the night,
Especially in winter,
When the stars are bright.

They wear very little,
They are very bold,
They don't seem to notice
When it's very cold.

They all look straight through me,
They don't point or gloat.
They wear next to nothing,
I wear my heavy coat.

They display their shoulders,
Their navels and each limb.
You can see whose diet's wrong,
And who goes to the gym.

In contrast are the young men,
The trendies and the cools,
Out without their coats on,
The optimistic fools.

*

Tommy Two Pies.

Tommy Two Pies is short and fat.
He never wears a coat or hat.

Tommy Two Pies moves about by car;
He can't be made to walk too far.

He goes to clubs to find a mate,
But all the girls think he's too great.

On his way home it's no surprise,
He stops off for chips and two pies.

(That's British chips, what Americans call "fries".)

*

Charlotte Uhlenbroek.

Lovely Charlotte Uhlenbroek
Works with chimpanzees,
And her grace and beauty
Bring me to my knees.

Lovely Charlotte Uhlenbroek
Works with big gorillas.
When she appears on telly
She is bound to thrill us.

Lovely Charlotte Uhlenbroek,
And orang-utangs
Work together beautifully,
Hear how my heart bangs.

Lovely Charlotte Uhlenbroek,
There on the t.v.
I know that I'm a kind of ape,
But she won't study me.

Solar System

Solar System Mnemonic.

Mercury is small and fast;
Venus kills you dead;
Earth has people on it;
Planet Mars is red.

Jupiter is biggest;
Saturn has its rings;
Don't talk about Uranus;
Neptune widely swings.

There is another item,
One we like to mock,
So-called planet Pluto:
Just a pushy rock.

(The above was written before Pluto deservedly lost its classification as a planet.)

**

Dust, Man.

I love you, honey,
But you gotta know,
Ask me to dust,
An' I gotta go.

Honey, that goes for vacuuming too.
Cleaning up dust is something I just won't do.

Well, I'll wash the bath.
I'll clean the car.
I'll go to the shops if it's not too far.
I'll be the object of your lust,
But,uh, huh, honey, don't ask me to dust.

Honey, that goes for vacuuming too.
Don't ask me to dust and I'll even clean the loo.

I'll do the washing up,
Delouse the cat,
Take the washing to the laundromat.
I'll clean the mower of all rust,
But, uh, huh, honey, don't ask me to dust.

Honey, that goes for vacuuming too.
Don't ask me to dust and I'll even cook for you.

Well, it's dust, dust, don't do dust,
Honey, dust, dust, don't do dust...(Fade out)

**

Campaign.

We all love our mobile phones,
And we are not fools.
We know masts are needed,
But keep them from our schools.

We are quite well organised,
And our leader says,
Phone masts are most dangerous,
With their deadly rays.

Children do get injured,
Death and broken bones,
But we're not campaigning
For traffic-calming zones.

To the masts we are severe,
To traffic we are mild,
Even though a phone mast
Never killed a child.

Our campaign is doing well,
And we're feeling grand.
It's good to know that Ned Ludd
Still walks this mighty land.

**

Drunken Uncle.

Get up and dance like you're at a wedding,
Can't be sure which direction you're heading,
Lurch about like a storm at sea,
And do the drunken uncle with me.

To learn this dance won't take very long,
Do any step, just make sure that it's wrong,
Sting like a butterfly, float like a bee,
And do the drunken uncle with me.

Wave both your arms and flutter your lids,
Be an embarrassment to all the kids,
Show them all what it's like to be free,
And do the drunken uncle with me.

It is more fun if you sing karaoke,
Pick something lively and a bit jokey,
Shuffle your feet and bend at the knee,
And do the drunken uncle with me.

Let's make those kids think that they've gone to Hell,
Let's do the drunken auntie as well.

**

In Celebration of Ukraine's Eurovision Song Contest Victory.

The Ukraine flag is simple,
And really rather mellow;
The upper half if blue,
The lower half is yellow.

Rugby Club

Rugby Club.

(Dedicated to my cousin, Jim Archibald.)

Jim played rugby as a boy,
Played well for his school,
Then he joined the local club,
Joined their talent pool.

He got married, had a kid;
He just kept on playing.
Others came; others went;
Big Jim, he was staying.

When he hit his forties,
He just carried on,
No longer in the first team,
His oldest friends moved on.

Arriving late, he overheard,
"What's happened to Old Jim?"
A sudden shock of horror:
That referred to him!

Now he serves behind the bar,
Says, "I remember when..."
But since that awful moment,
He's never played again.

**

Big Sister.

Laila's brand new brother,
A smashing little pal,
Weighs just over seven pounds,
And his name's Bilal.

Laila was once little,
Now she is quite large.
Bill is now the little one,
So Laila is in charage.

Although she's only two years old,
Her feet are on the ground.
She knows she can be kind to him,
And still boss him around.

**

Land of Fargon.

In the Land of Fargon,
Everyone wears shoes.
Everyone's a winner;
They don't ever lose.

In the Land of Fargon,
Everyone wears socks,
And if they are ladies,
Everyone wears frocks.

In the Land of Fargon,
Everyone wears pants.
Everyone is sensible;
No-one ever rants.

In the Land of Fargon,
All must wear a bra
To enforce equality
Upon dear papa.

In the Land of Fargon,
Everyone wears shirts.
Everyone's monogamous;
No-one ever flirts.

In the Land of Fargon,
Everyone wears coats.
It is a democracy;
Everybody votes.

In the Land of Fargon,
Everyone wears hats.
They are fond of animals,
Especially their cats.

In the Land of Fargon,
People wear good gear.
It is a Utopia,
But I prefer it here.

**

Politically Correct.

I have joined a well-known sect;
I am politically correct.

Our kind of person is the best, oh,
It says so in our personifesto.

We don't act like we live in a grotto;
"Personners maketh person" is our motto.

I am a person of great worth,
Personchester my place of birth.

Full of hills and lovely bays,
Isle of Person for holidays.

I make good sounds, commit no sin,
When I play the persondolin.

I'm not certain, I'm not sure
That what I'm saying isn't personure.

Horizon

Horizon.

Don't let me watch Horizon;
It isn't very nice
To hear that due to solar change,
The world will soon be ice.

Don't let me watch Horizon;
The glaciers are retreating,
And all the crops are going to fail;
The world is overheating.

Don't let me watch Horizon;
There's rocks above my head,
And if they ever hit the Earth,
I will be very dead.

Don't let me watch Horizon;
An island's due to break.
Then being at the seaside
Will be a huge mistake.

Don't let me watch Horizon;
Volcanoes which are still,
Will explode with lots of dust
And make us dead or ill.

Don't let me watch Horizon;
Diseases can now spread,
And they will never be contained,
'Til most of us are dead.

Don't let me watch Horizon;
They've come to the conclusion
That our whole world is just not real,
And that we're an illusion.

Don't let me watch Horizon,
But let me watch a soap,
And quizzes and a cooking show,
But leave me with some hope.

**

Burns and McGonagall

Drink a toast to Robert Burns,
A genius of great skill.
Those with greater talent?
Approximately nil.

Drink to William McGonagall,
A poet and a Scot,
Who thought he was a genius,
But probably was not.

**

Death and the Heckler.

A comic stood alone upon the stage.
The audience was full of silent rage.
Not a whisper, not a shout.
The only sound was people walking out.

In desperation he went more extreme.
His face was turning to the Silent Scream.
The audince had come and spent good money
And the little scoundrel was not funny.

The routine felt like it was War and Peace.
The curtain's fall was merciful release.
The comic was just heading for the door
When he heard a voice not heard before.

"You know that what you did here was all wrong,
"But think of Nietzsche; this will make you strong."
And just to make the comic feel much dafter,
There was applause and even hearty laughter.

The heckler had a hundred things to say,
So many things upon that fateful day.
The curtain rose and dancers leapt about,
And lively music drowned the heckler out.

**

Neanderthal Superiority.

Neanderthals are all deceased.
They’re pushing up the flowers,
Even though their brain size
Was much bigger than ours.

Survival of a species
Is really rather fragile.
We have kept on living
Because we were more agile.

The brightest humans are all dead
And we are somewhat less.
No wonder that we tend to make
Such an awful mess.

**

Stone Age Counting.

Counting is a lot of fun,
Right hand finger counts as one.

Counting makes you feel alive,
Right hand thumb alone is five.

Counting makes you feel just fine,
Right hand fully open's nine.

Here's a bit of useful gen,
Left hand finger counts as ten.

Here's a thing that is quite nifty,
Left hand thumb alone is fifty.

Numbers start to jump and jive,
Two thumbs up is fifty-five.

Numbers died and gone to heaven,
Index fingers are eleven.

Numbers really feel divine,
Open hands are ninety-nine.

You can wear an ancient smile,
You can count in caveman style.

**

Death and the Atheist.

Death does not worry
The true atheist,
Because when we die
We will cease to exist.

Such non-existence
Should hold no fears;
We managed quite nicely
For billions of years.

**

Death and the Believer.

The fate of the holy
Is not very clever;
They fear being tortured
For ever and ever.

They fear and they hope
About when they go.
The tragedy is
That they'll never know.

**

Atheist Bishop.

The bishop is clever,
Not at all dense.
He knows "God" and "Heaven"
Do not make sense.

He stands up and preaches,
Earns a few bob.
He lies to himself,
Because it's his job.

Villains

Villains.

Cheering for the goodies
Is really rather sad.
I do just the opposite.
I cheer on the bad.

Sherlock Holmes and Watson
Are too hale and arty.
They are not the men I'm for.
I'm for Moriarty.

Flash Gordon in the movies
Goes and does his thing.
You will hear me cheering,
Yes, for Emperor Ming.

People's thoughts on Disney
Can be quite obscene.
Most blokes fancy Snow White.
I like the Wicked Queen.

One-oh-one dalmantions
Make me feel quite ill.
One redeeming character:
Cruella de Ville.

There is an exception
To the way I feel.
I would never like them
If the swines were real.

**

Wicked Queen.

I wrote "I like the Wicked Queen",
So critics like to moan.
They say that Snow White's Wicked Queen
Changes to a crone.

This kind of transformation
Won't frighten me at all.
It happens fairly often
After alcohol.

Sometimes on a night out,
Pick up a gorgeous woman,
To find out in the morning
That she looks barely human.

It's a fifty-fifty
Which of us will flee,
Because I know the woman
Thinks the same of me.

**

Vlad.

Vlad the Impaler
Needed no jailer.
If you did him wrong,
You didn't last long.

A diplomat,
In a fancy hat,
Disliked the smell,
Got staked as well.

As a psychopath,
On a twisted path,
He went too far,
Now he's Dracula.

**

Selfishness.

Joseph Stalin
Was a sod,
But he never
Bothered God.

Jehovah's Witness,
What a bore,
Always knocking
On my door.

Joseph Stalin,
Better, see,
For he never
Bothered me.

**

Tin Man.

I'm the Tin Man,
That's my part.
Like the Tin Man,
I've no heart.

I'm still single,
Though I'm old.
Humans, animals,
Leave me cold.

Like Sinatra,
It's My Way:
Friend of Dorothy,
But not gay

Goodbye

Goodbye, Old Friend.

I always swore I'd be successful,
And that I'd stick by my old friends.
It really comes as a surprise, to me,
That this is how our friendship ends.

When we were both still useless failures,
You stopped me being just a wreck,
But now that I am rich and famous,
You are a millstone round my neck.

You were so loyal, warm and friendly,
But it's like living with a curse;
As I grow more and more successful,
Your attitude grows worse and worse.

My arrogance is overbearing,
And all I think about is me,
But if I have to face the punters,
Then that's the way it's going to be.

Many are moved by my performance,
And some of them will start to cry,
But when I try to talk to you, my friend,
You will not look me in the eye.

You used to be my strongest ally,
But now you're acting like a foe.
You do not seem to want to hear me,
While some pay fortunes to do so.

All my new friends are sycophantic,
Ten of them worth one of you,
But now that you are full of envy,
I think you know what I must do.

And so, old friend, I have to leave you.
I leave behind part of my soul.
I will get by with worthless people,
And sex and drugs and rock and roll.

("Goodbye, Old Friend" is an evil cousin of "Wind Beneath My Wings".)

*

Being Tonto.

When I was a schoolboy,
When there was little danger,
I and my companions
Used to play "Lone Ranger".

I had to be a character
And wanted to start pronto.
All wanted to be Ranger;
None wanted to be Tonto.

I said, "I will be Tonto;
Tonto is the best;
He says 'Kemo Sabe'.
You lot, be the rest."

All argued to be Tonto;
None wanted Ranger's part,
So I agreed to do it:
Kindness of my heart.

I was a cunning rascal,
A crafty little laddie,
Happy as the Ranger,
Tonto, or a baddie.

*

Photo.

I stumbled across
An old photograph,
A bunch of drunk students
Having a laugh.

There was a selection
In that silly crew,
The skinny one, me,
The pretty one, you.

Your dangerous boyfriend
Was not in the shot,
Prob'ly off somewhere
Scoring some pot.

We, in the photo,
Next to each other,
I thought you saw me
As like your own brother.

I remember you said,
"Hey, what's your hurry?
"Let's go together
"And share beer and curry."

We shared that one meal,
Which was really fun.
Effect on my life?
Practically none.

You left the course early,
Failed your degree.
That meant very little,
Or nothing, to me.

But now that I've learnt
To see more in a face,
I see my young self,
A callous disgrace.

For after you left,
I saw you in passing;
I did not stop,
I was too busy gassing.

So where are you now?
And are you still pretty?
Are you a granny?
A force in the City?

Are you embittered?
A hideous crone?
Are you quite fat,
Or all skin and bone?

Are you eccentric,
Or out of your mind?
Were the years hard,
Or have they been kind?

Are you still healthy,
With a clear head?
Have you been ill,
Or are you dead?

I just don't know,
And I never might,
So I'll keep that photo
Well out of sight.

**

Correct Pronunciation.

(This is for the people who ring me up and ask for "Mister Muuuuhr" and the like.)

Between Scotland and Saint Kilda
Lies the Isle of Robert Muir.
Sheep and lambs there are aplenty
And the men are good and pure.

Every man upon the island
Has the name of Robert Muir.
Each ot them has one big problem
And must leave to find a cure.

Though the isle is green and pleasanat,
Socially, it's bleak and bare.
All the Roberts talk of leaving,
For there are no women there.

(The island also plays host to Rob Muir and Robbie, Bobby, Rab, Rabbie and Bob Muir.)

*

Bird Alarm

I heard a call.
Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!
I looked into the garden
And saw the bird
In the jaws of a cat.

I looked at the cat.
It looked me in the eyes.
It said, “This is mine.”
I said, “I am here.”
Inscrutable.

I walked away.
Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!
Urgent! Help! Aaaargh!
Who am I?
Cat or bird?
Both.

Be Civil

Be Civil.

A daft old woman
Told me a joke,
Thinkin' I was one
Of the herrenvolk.

She thought her joke
Was really great,
But it ain't funny
If it's based on hate.

My skin is white
But my blood is red.
Act like a racist,
I'll wish you dead.

I just don't care
What colour your face is.
I only hate people
On a personal basis.

It really seems
Quite plain to see
We're all enriched
By var-i-et-ee.

All of us humans
Are one big race.
If you can't be civil,
Then shut your face!

*

Laila's Hat.
(Dedicated to Laila Chaudhry, child surrealist philosopher, and inspiration for this poem.)

Little Laila, year 'n' a half,
Wore her potty for a laugh.

"Take that thing from off your head,"
Little Laila's mummy said.

"Don't be so unclean and grotty,
Not a hat, it is a potty."

Little Laila smiled at that.
She said, "No, it is a hat."

Laila's mummy made a fuss,
Said, "My child's a genius.

"Such a speech from one so young
"Shows great mastery of the tongue."

But, when all's been done and said,
She had a potty on her head.

*

Laila's Benediction.

Little Laila's down to Earth,
Twenty-two months from her birth.

Parents go to a thea-itter,
Leave her with a baby-sitter.

Older woman, not a crone,
Feels she's, in a sense, alone.

Doesn't have to play a part,
Lets rip with a mighty fart.

Laila knows just what to do;
Looks at her and says, "Bless you".

*

Laila's Aunt.

Little Laila's Uncle Jim,
And his girlfriend, Tamsin,
Visit Laila's parents' house,
The place that Laila's pram's in.

Laila loves her Aunty Tam,
But not her Uncle Jim.
It's "Aunty Tam" and "Aunty Tam",
But she don't care 'bout him.

He can buy her presents,
Or shower her with praise;
Laila isn't bothered
If he goes or stays.

Tamsin need do nothing,
Apart from sitting there,
For Laila to climb up to her
And pat and stroke her hair.

Uncle Jim is quite nonplussed.
He says, "The kid's a rotter.
"I'm her mother's brother,
"And blood's more thick than water.

Uncle Jim could buy a dog,
A Labrador or setter,
And bring it up from puppyhood,
And hope it likes him better.

*

Big Policeman.

My nephew is a copper,
He stands just six foot five.
If he fell on top of you,
You might well not survive.

It's mostly as a babe and child
That I remember him,
So to this ancient uncle,
He's always "Little Jim".

To call him that right to his face,
The thought would not occur.
If I call him anything,
I always call him "sir".

*

Mints?

Whether she was travelling near or far,
Maggie kept a packet of mints in her car.

Five-year-old Laila, not one to hint,
Always said, “Gran, can I have a mint?”

Mag said, “Laila, remember if you would
Asking for mints is just plain rude.

Next time, Laila, charming and clear:
“I wonder if there’s anything minty in here?”

*

Cheap Shoes. (A Blues Song)

Cheap shoes, they hurt my skin.
I wear them out before I break them in.

Cheap shoes, they hurt my feet,
Then fall apart when I walk down the street.

Cheap shoes, they hurt my corn.
They make me wish I had never been born.

Cheap shoes, they make me blue.
The sad thing is they remind me of you.

*

Talk Like a Pirate.

(Chorus:)
Come an' join our scurvy crew,
An' learn to talk like pirates do.
(Repeated after each verse.)

When ye talk to pirates,
Be careful what ye say.
If ye want to get on well,
Ye talk the pirate way.

Ye must use some language
Of a different kind.
Ye can't say, "Stop that back there".
Ye say, "Avast behind".

"Yes and "no" are never used.
That's not the pirate way.
Positive and negative
Are simply "yarr" and "nay".

"Arrrr" is very versatile.
It means "hello", "goodbye",
"Let's all go and have a drink"
An' "Ye're all goin' to die".

Ye can't ever say, "I am".
Ye have to say, "I be".
If a word do end in "ing",
Ye always drop the "g".

Ne'er call any person "you",
Always call 'em "ye".
When sayin' words like "never",
Always drop the "v".

Everythin' ye have to say,
Although it makes no sense,
Describin' past or future,
Ye use the present tense.

Always be bombastic,
To be a pirate true.
Ne'er use a single adjective,
When two or three will do.

If ye really want to be
A salty old sea dog,
Don't go drinkin' cocktails,
Ye must be drinkin' grog.

Call yer woman-friend a wench,
When yer home from sea,
Unless the darlin' lady
Be more strong than ye.

Though piracy can be a laugh,
There be a nasty flaw.
Goin out a-piratin'
Be right against the law.

Ye can talk like pirates,
When standin by the mizzen,
But if ye do real piratin',
Ye hang or go to prison.

*

Retired Home Page Poem.

Click on a title,
It costs no money,
And what you see
Might well be funny.

*

Rejected Home Page Poem.

Read this site.
You really should.
It's so great,
It's made of wood.

*

Forgiveness.

When, at last, you know the truth,
Forgive the folly of your youth.
Realise that we're all thick.
Forgive each stupid little trick.

Forgive both enemy and friend.
This will help you in the end.
Some you can't forgive just yet:
Those who might still pose a threat.

*

To A Cheetah.
(With acknowledgements to "Wildlife on One" with David Attenborough.)

It's no fun being a cheetah;
You dash about all day;
You run just like a thing possessed
To catch up to your prey.

Then when you have killed it,
And you're all out of breath,
Up stroll some damn hyenas,
Ready for more death.

So you have to run away,
'Cos you're no match for them,
And listen to hyenas shout,
"Cheetahs are so femme".

Your skinny frame and these events
Are extremely linked.
If things go on the way they are,
You'll soon be extinct.

*

The Wreck of the Riverdance

At the windy, wintry start of year two thousand and eight,
A ferry on the Irish Sea was victim of an awful fate.

'Twas a violent, stormy, January night.
Those at sea were in an awful state of fright.

From Ireland to Heysham the Riverdance was going.
There were gales and heavy rain, but it was not snowing.

All hope was lost, no hope could e'er be found.
The Riverdance was blown off course and so it ran aground.

There were winds and lots of spume and foam.
The ship was stuck in sand at Blackpool's Anchorsholme.

More than twenty souls aboard feared that they would die,
But soon some rescue helicoptors were above them in the sky.

Naval rescue is a place where many heroes thrive.
Every one on board was taken off alive.

Lorries that were on board were in an awful tangle,
And morning saw the Riverdance upon the sand at something of an angle.

As days went by the ship's insurers must have cried.
The Riverdance slowly settled down upon its starboard side.

Imported Dutch salvors tried with might and mein
To make the ship upright and buoyant once again.

More strong and stormy winds amounting to a gale
Ensured that in their mighty efforts they would fail.

All hope of relaunch then went out of reach.
The mighty Riverdance was cut to pieces on the beach.

Sad is the loss, but we can say with pride
Brave men risked their lives, so that no person died.

(The above is dedicated to the helicopter rescue crews and to the memory of the great William McGonagall.)

Seven Deadly Sins

Seven Deadly Sins Mnemonic.

I'm very slow to Anger,
Don't Envy what you gain.
I'm not into Gluttony.
I'm not really Vain.

Steeped in Lust and Avarice,
Yes, I could be both,
But of all the deadly sins,
My favourite sin is Sloth.

*

Seven Dwarfs Mnemonic.

I was tired and Sneezy,
So I went to the Doc,
But I felt quite Bashful,
Because he wore a frock.

He was very Grumpy,
Not Happy in the least.
I'm Sleepy and I'm Dopey,
And he's the local priest.

*

Life Is a Joke

I have some wisdom
To pass to you folk.
I have now learned
That life is a joke.

I look at the hatred,
The violence and waste.
Like is a joke
In very poor taste.

*

Deathbed reflections on the Seven Deadly Sins.
(The "anger" verse is about a hypothetical individual and does not reflect my own political views.)

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
I wasn't too bad,
Apart from the lust.

So comes an end
To personal growth,
Which I never liked,
Because of the sloth.

A chance to make money
I'd never miss,
So I will admit
To some avarice.

Bring me some chips,
A nice piece of mutton.
I wasn't too bad,
But I was a glutton.

I was a Tory,
A flogger and hanger,
And so I lived
With near-constant anger.

My genius ends
Along with my pain.
I was so clever,
I had to be vain.

The final sin of envy,
A mountain I can't climb.
I can't be very clever,
'Cos I can't find a rhyme.
(But I bet you can, smartass.)

*

Imaginary Friend. (A Folk Song)

I really love my imaginary friend.
Because of him my life will never end.
Please don’t be thinkin’ that I’ve gone round the bend.
He’s real to me, my good old imaginary friend.

I’m not alone in this, my deep belief.
There’s billions of us, who know more joy than grief,
With special places from Adelaide to Crieff.
We take you in, whether you’re a king or thief.

Don’t you deny him and cause my heart to break.
Don’t you deny him, no, no for goodness sake.
We’ll argue with you, and give you tea and cake.
Not like the old days when we’d burn you at the stake.

I really love my Imaginary Friend.
Because of Him my life will never end.
Please don’t be thinkin’ that I’ve gone round the bend.
He’s real to me, my good old Imaginary Friend.

*

Whistling Builders.

I heard several whistles,
From a building site,
From a web of scaffolding,
Up and to my right.

I looked around and saw a girl,
Twenties or late teens,
Looking quite embarrassed,
In halter top and jeans.

The builder's men had no excuse,
So I let out a roar,
"Have you guys never ever seen
A handsome man before?"

They must have thought my shouting
Offensive and effete.
They climbed down from the building
And chased me down the street.

And even though I had to run,
I'm feeling really great,
For as I pelted past her,
The woman said, "Thanks, mate".

Trouble

Trouble.

I took you to a party,
You threw up in the sink,
Then you told our hostess
I'd had too much to drink.

But I will always love you,
No matter what you say,
Unless you are unfaithful,
In which case, go away.

You took me to a nightclub,
It cost me ninety pounds.
The drinks were so expensive
And I bought all the rounds.

But I will always love you,
No matter what you cost,
Unless you are unfaithful,
In which case, just get lost.

You argued with that big bloke,
You called him "cheeky pup".
You told him that I'd sort him out,
And so he beat me up.

But I will always love you,
For you I'm just a dope.
I know that you'll be faithful,
At least, that's what I hope.

*

Method Acting for Extras.

My social life was drinking,
So it's not so strange
That I got to thinking
That I need a change.

An item in the local press
About a group of actors
Said they'd lost some members
Due to various factors.

Amateur dramatics
Were not my thing at all,
But there is no booze involved,
And the fee is small.

I went along and got a part
In their next production,
A comedy of manners,
Relationship construction.

The setting was a posh hotel,
With me at the rear,
Sitting at a table,
Drinking lots of beer.

Drinking beer was all I did,
From the first to last.
Ever get the feeling
That you are typecast?

*

Method Acting for Bit Part Players.

My first stage performance
Was an easy part,
Sitting at a table
With my stage sweetheart.

Not much acting was required,
I harldy had to think,
Sitting in the background,
Sipping at a drink.

Then came my first speaking part,
A very minor role,
As a drunk called Mr. Doyle,
In "Love on the Dole".

I had to lie upon the stage,
Which acted as the street,
Then my stage wife came to me
And helped me to my feet.

I played a man whose drinking
Had turned him to a wreck.
Far too many strong drinks
Had gone down through his neck.

I issued threats and insults,
I tried to hit and missed.
I was extremely sober,
But seemed extremely pissed.

I've been drunk so many times,
It almost breaks my heart,
My life's been a rehearsal
For this tiny part.

Disclaimer:

Doyle and I are not alike,
For he is quite a lout.
When I'm drunk, I like to laugh,
And grin, but never shout.

*

Method Acting for Supporting Actors.

When I became an actor,
My first part was a boozer.
I then went on to portray
A wasted, drunken loser.

I then performed in panto,
As Pirate B. McGrew,
To the sound of clapping,
Whistles, cheers, a boo.

Was there any drinking?
Yes, there was, my dear.
I stood standing on the stage,
Taking swigs of beer.

My parts are getting bigger;
They have never shrunk.
That, despite the fact that I
Am typecast as a drunk.

*

Energy and Talent.

Hers was the greatest talent
In the karaoke bar.
Of all the voices present
Hers was the best by far.

But the favourite of the crowd,
It was not her at all.
It was a rock and roller
Whose talent was quite small.

He always put his heart in it,
Was sometimes quite frenetic,
But at the very least his turn
Was very energetic.

Then when the woman’s boyfriend left,
She drank too much by far
And danced and rocked upon the stage
And played the air guitar.

Now for the rock and roller
It’s as good as it gets.
With energy and talent
The pair now sing duets.

*

Karaoke Groupie.

She's a karaoke groupie,
People think she's kinda loopy.
She would like to form a club
For a singer in the pub.

She's not aiming any higher,
Proper singers don't inspire.
She has such a modest dream
Due to lack of self-esteem.

The singer is much older,
She could cry upon his shoulder,
And be with him for a while.
He has such a lovely smile.

The singer is now single,
With his "fans" he likes to mingle.
Gave the girl his autograph,
Only did it for a laugh.

She perceived in this small act
Confirmation of the fact
That the singer was not free.
He was now her property.

But the singer, with a frown,
Most politely turned her down.
She's a doer, not a talker.
She's a karaoke stalker.

*

How to Write Successfully

Offensive language is a must;
Insert a naughty word of choice.
If you do it well enough,
People think you are James Joyce.

Write about a horrible,
Supernatural thing.
If you do it well enough,
They'll think you're Stephen King.

Write about a silly world.
Pursue fame and catch it.
If you do it well enough,
They'll think you're Terry Pratchett.

Write about a magic boy
And a sport, say bowling.
If you do it well enough,
They'll think you're J K Rowling.

(For older readers:)
Write about a gang of kids,
An island with a light on.
If you do it well enough
They'll think you're Enid Blyton.

Have a lot of people killed,
On a moor that's misty.
If you do it well enough,
They'll think you're Julie Christie.

"Agatha", not "Julie"
Was my mooted plan,
But I see with sadness
That "Agatha" won't scan.

Upset the religious,
Give their faith a slam,
But for your own safety,
Don't upset Islam.

If you want to see your books
Flying off the shelf,
Probably the best way on
Is to be yourself.

*

Priorities

He's young and slim and handsome,
And catches ladies' eyes.
He's never with a woman,
Which causes some surprise.

He goes out drinking with his mates,
And knocks back lots of beer.
He's never with a woman;
Some think he might be queer.

He'd like to find a woman,
With whom he'd like to frolic.
He's never with a woman,
'Cos he's an alcoholic.

*

Married, Gay or Strange
(Now for a trip to the dark side.)

Women with age in a certain range
Say men are married, gay or strange.
That does not apply to me,
For I'm not gay, but I'm still free.

Free to make the wisest choices,
Backed up in this by all my voices,
Echoed in the things they've said,
From the fridge, by my spare head.

Trawler

Trawler.

I trawl the clubs in search of sex.
I am entirely free.
I like to lure young women
Into debauch-er-ee.

All my drinks are soft drinks,
No spirits, wine or beer.
While other men are sozzled,
My mind's entirely clear.

I can make you laugh or cry,
Or make you rock and roll.
People with emotions
Are easy to control.

I'll use you and I'll leave you,
That's the way I plan it.
Where other people have a heart,
I have only granite.

I am highly erudite.
I'm charming and I'm witty.
Give me everything you have,
All, except your pity.

*

Ex-Trawler

(This is a new poem, written after I moved from my old website to this one. I will work out how to create matching fonts.)

I trawled the clubs in search of sex.

I was entirely free.

But I no longer stop up late;

I lack the en-er-gee.

Once very lithe and lissom,

I now possess a belly.

Rather than go clubbing,

I'd rather watch the telly.

But my life is not too bad.

I do not dwell in Hades.

I go to the seniors' club,

Where I seduce old ladies.

*
Natalie.

Your hobby's wrong, young Natalie;
Take up the brush or pen,
Or knitting or philately,
But stop collecting men.

Try building model aircraft
From manufactured parts.
Try collecting beer mats,
But stop collecting hearts.

Try tennis, golf or badminton,
Or even crown green bowls.
Try any sport you care to name,
But stop collecting souls.

On second thoughts, it's not your fault
You turn men into wrecks.
The problem does not lie in you.
It lies in the male sex.

You drive men to distraction.
The poor things feel so blue,
Because there are so many men,
And only one of you.

But one day you'll be older,
And men won't care so much
About your eyes, your lips, your hair,
Your bosoms or your crutch.

So go ahead, enjoy yourself,
Give those rascals hell.
Take up some other hobbies;
Collect your men as well.

*

Good Old Days.

We’ve never heard of ghorfing,
And grongling’s rarely done.
We still go out in daylight,
And drinking counts as fun.
These are the good old days.

Music is accepted,
Not banned as sinful noise.
Unarmed people use the street,
No fear of choppyboys.
These are the good old days.

Los Angeles is thriving;
London has not drowned.
Europe is still fertile,
Not desert, barren ground.
These are the good old days.

These are the good old days,
The future’s rosy past.
These are the good old days;
Enjoy them while they last.

*

Smirking Face.
(This was inspired by an ex-colleague who showed off in front of his girlfriend, my mates and several dozen strangers by demanding that I recite a poem and then complaining loudly when he did not like the trite couplet I came out with to humour him.)

There's many things in life I love,
Like words upon a page,
But when I see your smirking face
It fills my heart with rage.

There's many things in life I love,
Like books upon the shelf,
But when I see your smirking face
I wish you'd kill yourself.

There's many things in life I love
Like every sunny day,
But now I see your smirking face,
So please, just go away.

*

Humankind.
(Here's one for when you're in a very bad mood.)

What a work of God is Man,
Every man my brother;
Lots of nonsense from one end,
Ordure from the other.

Richard Dawkins

Richard Dawkins

Hurrah for Richard Dawkins,
The scourge of all the Jews,
The Christians and the Muslims,
The Buddhists and Hindus.

He knows that faith is nonsense
And holy books are wrong,
A prayer is merely talking,
A hymn is just a song.

He’s not afraid to face the facts.
He sees by reason’s light.
Here’s the most depressing thought:
The clever fellow’s right.

“Kill and die for your beliefs”.
“Send infidels to Hell”.
That’s not only evil,
It’s ludicrous as well.

Dawkins is a good man.
He has no cloven hoof.
All he wants is that we say,
“Come on, where’s the proof?”

*

Science or Faith?

How do we go back to the Moon?
Tell me, what's the way?
Should we use logic and science?
Or should we all sit here and pray?

*

Stornoway!
(An unofficial anthem.)

There's a place that's wet and cold.
Stornoway!
Worth its very weight in gold.
Stornoway!

There's a nearly constant gale.
Stornoway!
Mixed with snow and sometimes hail.
Stornoway!

There are birds and seals as well.
Stornoway!
There are fish. You'll like the smell.
Stornoway!

We've no worries and no cares.
Stornoway!
We live near some polar bears.
Stornoway!

We all like to sing a song.
Stornoway!
Of winter days ten minutes long.
Stornoway!

What's the best way?
Stornoway!
Stornoway, Stornoway, Stornoway,
Aaaaaaah, Stornoway!

*

Never Do a Relative a Favour.
(A Country and Western Song.)

(Chorus):
Never do a relative a favour,
Never do a favour for a friend,
For if you do you know they will resent it,
And that they're gonna get you in the end.

My Auntie was a very poor old widow,
She had a chance to buy her council flat,
But she had no savings whatsoever;
My parents' loan was what took care of that.

(Chorus)

Nobody bothered with a legal contract,
So Auntie's fortunes got a great big lift.
For years she kept her mouth shut 'bout the purchase,
Then swore to God the money was a gift.

(Chorus)

So Daddy's dead and Mommy is now renting,
And Auntie's really doing rather well.
I'm sure my Daddy now resides in Heaven;
When Auntie dies she's going straight to Hell.

(Chorus)

*

Only Me.

(This was originally meant to be a folk song, so after each couplet you might sing:
"Hey ho, I'm wild and free
In my life there's only me".)

I went out with a lass called Sue.
I'd no idea what to do.

I went out with a lass called Rose,
Until she punched me on the nose.

I went out with a lass called Chris.
She always used to take the piss.

I went out with a lass called Anne.
She left me for a dirty old man.

I went out with a lass called Ruth.
She left me for a spotty youth.

I went out with a lass called Jen.
But she preferred some other men.

I went out with a lass called Jane.
All she did was cause me pain.

I went out with a lass called Jean.
She was violent and mean.

I went out with a lass called Belle.
Thought I'd died and gone to Hell.

I went out with a lass called Bea,
Until she ran away to sea.

I went out with a lass called Gail
Until they took her back to jail.

I went out with a lass called Maud,
'til she became a friend of God.

I went out with a lass called Claire.
She slapped my face and pulled my hair.

You look doubtful, this I know,
But that was several years ago.

I've been stalked for several years,
By a lass who looks like Britney Spears.

I don't moan and I don't cry,
But I have been known to lie.

I went out with a lass called Joy,
Until I found she was a boy.

Shaven head 'neath long, blonde curls.
I stopped going to Funny Gurls.

I went out with a lass called Meg,
'til she went and broke my leg.

I went out with a lass called Dawn.
Left me for dead upon the lawn.

I'm sure there's still an open door;
I'm just a boy of fifty-four.

To carry on now would offend,
So now my sorry tale must end.

*****

Dirty Old Optimist.

You are young and beautiful,
But it's such a bore
That you are only eighteen,
And I am fifty-four.

But you have two lovely friends,
Who are eighteen as well,
So adding up your ages,
It's fifty-four! Oh, swell!

So here's a proposition,
Appealing and quite moresome,
You and me and your two friends:
A real fantastic foursome.

*****

Professional Relationship.

We sit together in the dark,
Your voice is soft and low.
It's nearly time for me to leave,
But I don't want to go.

If I said I'd like to stay,
There would be some friction,
Because I am your customer,
And you are my optician.

To ignore your pheromones
Would be less than human,
But I'll keep my trap shut,
'Cos you're a married woman.

*

Faded Fame.

He was Charlie Eckersley
In a well-known soap.
That was just the start of it,
At least, that was the hope.

But no other parts arrived,
So now he's feeling blue.
No longer Charlie Eckersley,
Now he's "Who are you?"