On the Mull of Kintyre
I stood atop the steep cliffs
On a day so crisp and clear
And looked out towards the east
And it was possible to see
The mystical Ailsa Craig
And the Ayrshire coast beyond
On the Mull of Kintyre
I stood atop the steep cliffs
On a day so crisp and clear
And looked out towards the east
And it was possible to see
The mystical Ailsa Craig
And the Ayrshire coast beyond
Are you wearing a onesie?
I didn’t know you were the type
But you have surprised me
And yes I like the tiger stripe
It’s rather a shapeless thing
Am I being picky and choosy?
To be honest I don’t like it
But I’d like to see your twosie
Taffy was a Welshman,
Taffy was a thief;
Taffy came to my house
And stole a piece of beef.
I should mention in the interest
Of political correctness
That not all Welshmen
Are called taffy
And not all Welshmen
Are thieves or indeed
Have a liking for someone else’s beef.
But this particular Welshman
In the 18th Century Nursery Rhyme
Was indeed called taffy
And he was a thieving bastard
“Taffy was a Welshman was an actual nursery rhyme
Popularised in the 18th Century, so don’t blame me”
“You can’t take it with you”
That’s what they say
But at the end of the day
A Will is a dead giveaway
A bicycle couldn't stand up
Alone it transpired
Because after a cycle
It was obviously two tired
When I lived in Melbourne
I often used to wonder
Why the Local Area Network
Wasn’t called The LAN down under
“Could I try on that pretty dress
In
the window?” she asked him
He
replied “well I would prefer