My poems have been called
On a good day, ribald
More often
artistically bald
Humourous? So-called
Wit to scathe and
scald
Tastelessness unrivalled
Not written but
scrawled
Or just plain tired
and auld
But I say with joy
untold
Prepare again to be
appalled
I see birds in herds
Freaks with beaks
Tykes on bikes
Mancs in tanks
Bowsers in trousers
Paedo’s in speedos
Perverts in skirts
Streakers in sneakers
Coppers in toppers
Scouses in blouses
Weirdo’s in hairdos
And I ask myself
What was in that roll up?
When I was in my teens
I was regarded as
unusual
Due to the rapid speed
I was extending in the
vertical
But that was long ago
And my height now is
more usual
But some unseen force
is at work
And I’m growing
horizontal
Have you ever eaten vegetarian?
Is that something you
have done?
Well, no I haven’t,
but I’d like to
Though I couldn’t eat
a whole one
It was his repeated use
Of drastic plastic
Which led to his
appearance
At Devizes assizes
Christmas is coming the geese are getting fat
Pick me out the fattest one and we’ll have that
It needs to be a big one for our Christmas feast
In fact, just give us the one that’s clinically obese
When I was young, life was full of riches
Then I discovered
women could be bitches
And some even gave you
embarrassing itches
