I suffer from a strange phobia
Which was hard for me
to admit
As I have a fear of
speed bumps
But I’m slowly getting
over it
I suffer from a strange phobia
Which was hard for me
to admit
As I have a fear of
speed bumps
But I’m slowly getting
over it
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells
And other tacky blingy
show
Are you wearing a nappy?
Well, if that’s what
you wish
But have you become
incontinent?
Or is it just some
kind of fetish
Could Jesus have been Irish?
Well, the bible says
He never marries
He loved green
pastures and water
And He was always
telling stories
The October Revolution
Is something to
remember
But the Russians don’t
Even Netflix has come to the conclusion
I watch too much TV,
so there’s no doubt,
It doesn’t suggest
more box sets to watch
Instead, it’s started
suggesting I go out
I am certainly a doubting Thomas
My doubts are quite
eclectic
But my disbelieving is
such
That I don’t believe
in sceptics