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

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!"

ENLIGHTENMENT

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.

DAD

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

20.11.2013

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

COUSIN BRUCE

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