I went out to a party,
And met a friendly bunch.
We stood around and nattered,
While we all drank some punch.
I met a pleasant woman,
And asked her out to lunch.
When she refused, I sighed a bit,
And drank another punch.
I helped myself to vol au vents.
They were a tasty munch.
Then I ate some spicy balls,
And drank another punch.
I talked about my past life,
Said,"I was married wunch",
Then I shed a manly tear,
And drank another punch.
We talked of other nations.
I said, "I hate the Frunch,
And I don't like the Welsh much",
And drank another punch.
I capered round the garden,
Aped Quasimodo's hunch,
And smacked my head against a tree,
And drank another punch.
I tried to juggle raw eggs,
They landed with a crunch.
I tried to wipe the carpet.
I might have had more punch.
I came to in my own house.
My clothes lay in a scrunch.
I lay in blood and vomit.
I've had enough of punch.
(Excessive drinking is not funny or clever, and I do not recommend it. Or smoking.)
*
Don't Smoke Fags.
There's many nasty habits,
Like "E" and crack and glue,
But smoking several fags a day
Is just as bad for you.
Some people pick their noses,
Some people like to fart,
But none of these activities
Is so bad for the heart.
The smoker's breath is odious,
The hair and body too.
They make old dead dogs smell like
Freshest morning dew.
A moment's druggie pleasure
Is what a smoker craves.
They pay the price in vigour
And suffer early graves.
It is not just the smoker
Who meets an early end.
There's also passive smoking
For relative and friend.
Smokers do look older
But that is no disgrace
It's just the smoke from cigarettes
Kippering their face.
So, smoker, have some will power
Show some common sense.
Give up now and save your health
And several pounds and pence.
*
Mariners Arms, RIP
Someone stole the Mariners.
This is very sad.
I used to go there drinking,
When I was just a lad
Someone stole the Mariners.
There's going to be big trouble.
Someone stole the Mariners
And left a pile of rubble.
*
Autumn.
Now's the time for wooly hats,
And long johns for your legs.
Now's the time each little brat
Hits the street and begs.
First the dreaded "Trick or treat",
Words to bring you fear.
Every little child you see:
Protection racketeer.
Then it's "Penny for the guy",
But there are not many
Who will even be polite,
If you give a penny.
Then a line of "Wenceslas";
You'd have to be a burk
To give them any money
For very little work.
There should be no penalty,
No, not even fines,
If you open up your door,
And shoot the little swines.
*****
The Streets of Blackpool.
(Or of anywhere else with a less than dazzling football team.)
A beggar limped along the street,
With ragged clothes and frozen feet.
He stopped a man of ruddy face
And said "0h shame and black disgrace
"That Christmas time should find me so
"Homeless, starving, short of dough.
"Have some pity on me, pray.
"Tell me, sir, what do you say?"
The stranger frowned and shook his head.
In tones most bitter, this he said:
"So you've got problems, little man,
"Well, I'm a Blackpool football fan."
The beggar wept and said, "I see
"That you're more piteous than me."
*****
Relocation.
There was an old fellow called Ray,
Who announced that he would go away.
His eyes filled with tears
At the sound of the cheers
And the laughter that lasted all day.
*****
Resignation.
There was an old fellow called Rob,
Who announced that he would leave his job.
When asked, "You'll go where?",
He said, "I don't care,
"I'll probably just be slob."
*****
To Jane, on the Occasion of her Stag Night.
(Jane had a hen night for her female friends and a stag night for her male friends.)
When we first met some years ago,
I fancied you like mad,
For I was still deluded
That I was still a lad.
But then you told me something
Which made me feel quite glum.
I'm very near exactly
The same age as your mum.
I have met your spouse-to-be,
Next to whom I'm puny.
In manliness, he's Hercules
And I am Mickey Rooney.
And full of light and candy,
For you, your mum, for little Jack,
For all your friends, and Andy.
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