A man had had far too much to drink
Now
I must go home he began to think
He
tried to stand up and fell to the floor
So,
he decided to crawl out of the door
Then
after a little fresh air he tried again
But
he fell face down in the drain again
“I
will never get up” to himself he said
I
won’t try again Ill crawl home instead
His
wife found him on the step asleep
“I
went for a drink” he said like a sheep
“And
I know what made you crawl so far
Your
wheelchair is still in the public bar”
Long ago in the
Old Wild West
With
empty pockets
In his vest
Into
the frontier
Town of Conroy
Rode
a ragged
Looking cowboy
He
tied up by
The towns hotel
And
found a man
A tale to tell
He
said that he
Had bad luck
And
all he needed
Was a buck
The
man took him
To the saloon
Saying
if you drink
From the spittoon
Ill
give you fifty
Take time to think
Fifty
dollars
If you take a drink
The
cowboy nodded
And then said yes
He
was willing
Well more or less
He
held the spittoon
Up to his lip
He
took a breath
And then a sip
He
drank his fill
Till all was gone
The
man paid up
And said well done
You
really earned
This money well
But I must say this
If truth to tell
I
would have paid you
Just to try
You
did not need
To drink it dry
Why
didn’t you stop?
Are you a chump?
I
couldn’t stop
It was in one lump
I
have a tale of woe to tell
Of
my piano which I must sell
Oh,
what a tragic sort of tale
Which
tells of my piano for sale
For
it has to go so I was told
Though
I don’t really want it sold
So,
a new owner I must find
Someone
appreciative and kind
Or
to the garage go it must
To
become a gatherer of dust
But
I can’t keep it out of sight
So,
I’ll bid farewell to my upright
Why
must I part with my dear friend?
But
part we must though in the end
Creating
extra space is sort
But
what makes space of such import?
What
makes this move so necessary?
Is
the room changed to a nursery
The
time has come to do the deed
To
write the add for them to read
So
how to frame the perfect add
To
attract the good but not the bad
Piano
for sale, is how I began
Piano
for sale, only used for Chopin
Computers are here to ease your life
Preventing
tiresome trouble and strife
Well,
that’s the story salesmen tell
About
PC’s and laptops as well
Computers
which we depend upon
That
work with chips of silicon
With
glowing screens and flashing lights
With
touchscreens and terabytes
Machines
to complete any task
Varied
functions whatever you ask
They’ll
calculate and interface
Then
trash your files without a trace
You
put your faith in state of the art
Then
when you’re not looking it falls apart
So,
to hell with programs and all that fuss
Legendary Mousehole resident Tom Bawcock
Went out to fish beneath a
storm filled sky
To lift a famine from the
village, and to honour him
They hold an annual festival
and eat Stargazy pie
Gambling was not condoned
And using the Force wasn’t done
However, the Jedi Knights
Had a bet regardless and Obi Wan
On White Thursday
It’s St Chewidden’s Day
He’s revered by “Tinners”
Since their heyday
For sharing the secrets
Of Smelting they say
(On the last clear Thursday
before (i.e. at least one week before) Christmas)
