I hate automated switchboards
They are so annoyingly
slow
I wanted to book
tickets
For an Elvis act a
know
Each minute on the
phone
Was costing me dough
Then at last it said press
1
For the money, 2 for
the show
I hate automated switchboards
They are so annoyingly
slow
I wanted to book
tickets
For an Elvis act a
know
Each minute on the
phone
Was costing me dough
Then at last it said press
1
For the money, 2 for
the show
He had the Tarka Vindaloo
The rotter
It’s like Chicken
Vindaloo
But its otter
I work at the met office
And my name is Bob
I have to do the
pollen count
God it’s a difficult
job
Tom, Tom of Islington,
Married a wife on Sunday,
And that’s all I will tell
Because to be honest
it doesn’t end well
Are you wearing perfume?
I can smell it in this
room
It’s a very seductive
brew
Are you sure its not
you?
Then the answer is
clear
And your brother has I
fear
Without our consent
Suzy
Been entertaining a
floozy
I was given from the dispensary
After my surgery
By a doctor so
proficient
A tablet so efficient
That it dislocates
your brain
So you really feel no
pain
He came in the night
The consummate thief
The taker of souls
Stealer of the cherished
Inhabitor of shadows
Blackness draping him
Like the night itself
The grim reaper
The snuffer of candles
The snatcher of life
The author of my grief