Tuesday, 16 June 2015

Acid Sid's Last Gasp.

Acid Sid's Last Gasp.

Acid Sid was of disrepute.
He sold drugs to kids in a snazzy suit.
His pockmarked face was in a snarl
as he walked round with his mate Carl.

I put Carl in so that it would rhyme
but it was Sid alone who did the crime.
I chased him off; how he did cough.
He ran until his lungs gave out,
plus, he suffered terribly with chronic gout.

I said, "now look what drugs have done,"
he said, "I'll shoot you with my gun."
The bullet whistled past my head
and hit his mate Carl, who fell down; dead.

I felt guilty of a crime,
I'd introduced Carl to make it rhyme.
Acid Sid said, "I've another bullet."
He touched the trigger,but he didn't pull it.

His acidic lungs gave up on him,
His eyes rolled up, all glazed and dim.
The pain ebbed out of his gout riddled feet,
as he went to hell to face the heat.

Monday, 15 June 2015

Fiddle Dee Dee.

Fiddle-dee, dee.

Under the spreading chestnut tree,
I met a wench and she liked me
-Hey, ho fiddle-de-de.

My hand did wonder above her knee,
under the spreading chestnut tree
-Hey ho fiddle-dee dee.

that wench she had to marry me,
and we-well-
Hey ho fiddle-dee, dee.

I'm a fiddle-dee, dee and a fiddle, de, doe.
A fiddler I'll let you know,
under the spreading chestnut tree,

Keep your daughters under lock and key
away from that spreading chestnut tree.
Hey ho fiddle-dee, dee,
under the spreading chestnut treeeeee

Rocking away those wartime blues.

Rocking Away Those Wartime Blues

War babies came in with a bang,
in a war when they sang
of Bluebirds, Kitbag’s and Farewells.
Heroic parents with stories
to tell of their Glories
in a hell where their brave comrades fell.
Flat caps and Mack’s and demob suits
and very shiny leather boots.

They fought for peaceful days.
So we got a new craze...
We put on our blue swede shoes
and danced away those blues.

In peace, we did what we pleased.
tight trousers, short skirts,
youths with long hair,
and draped jackets that came down to our knees.

We danced a fast dance
with an unusual stance.
Jive was alive,
girls were thrown in the air,
they didn't care.
as we rocked the dance floor,
pony tails in girls hair.

We rocked around in blue swede shoes,
We rocked away those wartime blues...
The clock struck one two three and four,
now we are knock, knock, knocking on heavens door.
We are rock rock rocking, knocking on.
Ah, how good was Freedom?

Old Baldy.

He looked in the mirror this morning; he finally had to admit;
He hadn't a lot of hair left; In fact there was only a bit.

Once, it was thick; and wavy, he could comb it back in a D.A.
At twenty seven he combed it forward, as it was then it started fading away.

Nobody seemed to notice; as the Beetles were then all the rage,
He just said ‘I have changed my image; to look like those blokes on the stage.

When it started to get a lot thinner, he was getting worried; it’s true.
So he combed it up from the nape of his neck; it’s the only thing he could do.

Then the day arrived when his cover was blown, the wind was really high;
It lifted his waves up and down on his head, and they looked like they were waving goodbye.

He heard of a new cure for baldness. They said rub chicken muck in your head;
He didn’t do the full course of treatment, as the wife would not let him in bed.

Now he’s shaven the fuzzy bits from his head, and refrained from wearing a vest;
And like those macho men in the movies, he now flashes the hair on his chest.

Sunday, 14 June 2015

Born fit? Keep it!

That's what I'll be.

Born 1942,
that's true!

27th of July,
Had a good run?
Not yet son.

keep going,
no slowing,
Born fit?
Keep it.

you lose!

And beer,
cigarette smoke,
You croak,
on coke.

Fast food,
slow body,

Time will come
when my life's done.
Some is luck, you cannot duck,
when the cancer bullet hits,
you go chuck.

The name,
of the game.
Life's not cheap,
thrills are.

Saturday, 6 June 2015

The New Poets of Rap.

The New Poets of Rap.

Poetical, historical,
Record of our time
poets of rap
truth in rhyme.
listen hear
don't sneer
young here.
Look see
not just me
it's he, she,
she and he.
Together stand
apart fall
stand tall
for all.
Listen, listen, listen
eyes open, glisten
in recognition.
Remember Rock?
parents in shock
rock on with rap
close that gap
catch up
get the map.

The Days of the Whistle Blowers.

Oh how the mighty fall,
few now walk tall,
Some fiddled expenses, some fiddled with girls,
grinning bedecked with bling, gold teeth and pearls.

MPs, Celeb's, Newspaper Hacks.
Once only flashers in gaberdine macs.
Slandering people who won't give a story
making up tales so nasty and gory.

You watch my back I'll watch yours,
Don't let our secret go out these doors.
Aha! there's a mole, he's been underground,
he's now a whistle blower, his scruples are sound.

Another Mole, in velvety suit,
smart, intelligent, astute.
Two whistle blowers who can be believed,
Victims and Constituents are now relieved.

More whistle blowers, they can't be ignored.
whistles are screeching, Oh my Lord.
You shouldn't be crooked, your a Lord of the Realm,
A member of Parliament should be at the helm.

Celebs should be celebrated, not Vile and reviled,
Worse than animals out in the wild.
Free speech when true,
not words that suit only you.

At last they are falling from their high perches,
Hypocrites, Thieve's, perverts;
even in churches.
Scum of the earth they floated on top,
now at the bottom;
and! A top Cop.

Oh how the mighty fall,
 they no longer walk tall.
They  are down and out.
Victims were brave enough to shout.

Some may be dead, some may be old,
Who would have known?
without whistle blowers...
So Bold!