Friday, 22 August 2014

Precious Stones

I made a pile of gems for every nation
Each stone was perfect truth, beyond compare
And then I sent each race an invitation
It said, “Please come along and take your share.”

They asked me how to keep them clean and shining
And carry them back home, not let one fall
I told them, “Weave some bags of your designing...
The form and colour matter not at all.”

I thought they'd put aside their guns and sabres
To meditate on each and every gem
And then decide to visit all their neighbours
To see the precious things I'd shared with them

They should have found it marvellous and moving
To have these clues to understanding me
But no, they quickly set their minds to proving
How absolutely stupid they could be

Instead of joining in the joy and wonder
Of all the truth and wisdom they could win
They treat each other's gems as pointless plunder
And fight about the bags they put them in

Tuesday, 15 July 2014

The Compliment

Me wife looks in the mirror and she shakes her head and sighs
"Me boobs are on me belly and me belly's on me thighs
Me hair's all dry and stringy, I've got wrinkles round me mouth
Me face is red and blotchy and me jawline's drifted south!
Hey, cheer me up! Say something nice, the way a husband should!"
I says, "Well love, it goes to show, your eyesight's pretty good!"
Bird Men

Three women at a bus stop were discussing life, and then
As frequently occurs, the conversation turned to men
"My husband's like a swan," said one, "so elegant and calm
And I feel like a duchess when we're walking arm in arm."
"Well, mine's more like a robin,"said the second lady there
"He's always bright and chirpy, like he doesn't have a care."
"They sound quite nice," said number three, "I can't compete with that
'Cause my old man's just like a thrush:  an irritating prat!"

Sunday, 1 December 2013


Once, burdened by my mental situation
And feeling on the brink of going barmy
I thought I’d try my hand at meditation
As advertised by Guru Veeraswami

And so I went to see him, as directed
I found him on a blanket, on the floor
The man was everything that I’d expected
A loincloth and a smile were all he wore

He sat serenely, picking his verrucas
He spoke to me, his body gently swaying
And noisily recycling his mucus
As if to emphasise what he was saying

He said to me, “Your psyche is chaotic
With worries and irrational obsessions
You really need to be far less neurotic
And free from your attachment to possessions”

He told me he’d be glad to lead me into
A cure for all the follies of my youth
He asked me for my cash card and my PIN too
To prove I was a seeker after truth

He told me “Just relax and don’t be frightened
Your mind will wander every now and then
But pretty soon, you’ll notice you’re enlightened
And life will never be the same again.”

“Ignore your thoughts, wherever they are from, son
Imagine someone else is going through it
Breathe slowly in and out, while chanting “Om”, son
I’ll pop out for a bit and leave you to it”

Well, hours later, I was getting worried
My body stiff, in places rather sore
When suddenly, with footsteps quick and hurried
A man I didn’t know came through the door

He saw me there and seemed to be quite flustered
He stood as if uncertain what to do
And then he walked across to me and blustered
“I’m Guru Veeraswami. Who are you?”

My bank account’s been mercilessly plundered
And though I’m not the cleverest of men
I’ve learned a lot, and just in case you wondered

I’m never gonna fall for that again.

Tuesday, 19 November 2013


I must admit, you used to drive me crazy
We had our own ideas of right and wrong
But when the line between the two was hazy
And I was just as weak as you were strong
For me, there wasn’t anyone above you
You stayed there through the bad times and the good
I’m really glad I got to say “I love you”
And didn’t simply leave it understood
You took my side, whatever anyone said
And though you weren’t the easiest of men
I wish that we could share another sunset
And you could drive me crazy once again


Thursday, 16 May 2013

Bollocking Time
(Tune: Mull of Kintyre)

Bollocking time, I’m pissed rolling in from
The pub at half nine
My dinner’s gone cold and it’s
Bollocking time

Frost in my face as I walk through the door
What can I say that you’ve not heard before?
Surely you know that it isn’t a crime
I’ve had one little drink and it’s bollocking time

Give me a moment and let me explain
Just as I passed there it started to rain
You’re not convinced and it looks as if I’m
In the doghouse again and it’s bollocking time

Don’t waste my food, that’s a terrible sin
Scraping my dinner right into the bin
Kindly stop shouting, the kids will think I’m
Not the boss around here if it’s bollocking time

You’ve had your say and I wish you’d desist
Taking advantage of me when I’m pissed
Show some respect for a man in his prime
‘Cause it just isn’t fair that it’s bollocking time

I’ve said I’m sorry, that’s all I can do
Why can’t you see it from my point of view
Have some tequila, or vodka and lime
And you’ll see there’s no reason for bollocking time

Sunday, 12 May 2013


My cousin’s been staying with me for a week
It’s driving me mad, I must say
The things that he does make me holler and shriek
I hope that the bugger won’t stay
‘Cause when he’s been out with his mates for a drink
He lets himself down, a lot more than you’d think
Like combing his pubic lice into the sink
And forgetting to rinse them away

Oh cousin Bruce, why the hell did you come?
Go back to Oz; you’re a pain in the bum

He’s loud and he’s crass and incredibly rude
Whenever my friends come to call
He eats like a pig, with his mouth full of food
He’s grateful for nothing at all
It seems he’s addicted to prawn vindaloo
It’s fatal to follow him into the loo
But hey, he’s my cousin, so what can I do?
I’m banging my head on the wall

Oh cousin Bruce, why the hell did you come?
Go back to Oz; you’re a pain in the bum

And boy, is he boring! He never shuts up
He farts and he’s drunk all my tea
His favourite film is Two Girls and One Cup
That’s something you don’t want to see
I’ve had it to here, I can’t take any more
I wish I could kick his arse out of the door
And tell him “Get lost or I’m calling the law
Go home and forget about me”

Oh cousin Bruce, why the hell did you come?
Go back to Oz; you’re a pain in the bum