In many countries alongside the concept of Nice Santa who brings gifts for the good boys and girls there also co-exists Nasty Santa who carries a stick for beating the naughty children.  In France he is known as Le Pere Fouettard.

My Santa you will never see upon your Christmas card,

The counterpart of Pere Noel: his brother, Pere Fouettard.

I know if I’m a good girl tha...

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Sports Day at the primary school

The kids were 7 and 9;

They’d been at the school for 4 or 5 years -

It seemed such a very short time.

For dads there was the Blue Ribbon event

I always gave it a bash;

The ritual humiliation of

The 70 Metres Dash.

Now bear in mind that some of these dads

Were barely in their 20s,

While Muggins here had carried ...

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A collier's to be found

A mile underground

And not in the sunlight like other hominids

Though he loves his mates and wife

His would cut them like a knife

There's no humour crueller than colliers and kids.

A fat kid hears the cries

“Who ate all the pies?”

Or maybe “Specky Four-Eyes” God forbid;

But are a Yorkshire miner's

Manners any finer

There'...

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Another dirty one from my stable of sexual preferences, and from the Malton Festival of Erotic Literature.

If women saw inside men's minds,

If darkest depths they'd plumb,

Would they find in some deep hole

The Pit and Pendulum?

He found he had his best success

In warmer foreign climes

Or when they wore their sleeveless tops

In English summertimes.

...

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I’ve questioned the attraction and the stoic satisfaction

Of gaspers dense in doorways as they draw narcotic drags

But once you’ve got the taste of tar, Hell, I’d walk to Zanzibar

In snow and wind and rain to smoke a fag.

There are pleasures twice as nice as the rarest Indian spice

Contained within each single stick the advertisers brag;

For the nectar of the Gods ...

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We buried our gold in an oaken cask

To hide from the pillaging Dane;

Then fled in hopes of recovering it;

We never saw treasure again.

We trudged our way southwards for five whole days,

The Danes never far from behind;

They were close enough we could hear the screams

Of those captured that they would blind.

We sought sanctuary in Eoferwic

Through ...

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(This doesn't work on paper!)

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As we crunched through snow together

In inclement Arctic weather,

I thought I’d bring to mind an Old Icelandic song;

There’s a saga of the Viking

That you need to heed when hiking

That “Pissing in His Boots -

Keeps No Man Warm for Long”.

In Nordic runes it’s written

That if your foot’s frost-bitten

Don’t fumble with your flaps to free your frozen prong;

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We walked out for our evening meal,

Strolling down the street,

When Bingo!  “Chinese Buffet -

As much as you can eat!”

The Happy Hours are 6 till 8

All seven days a week

And only 13 Euros -

It must have been off-peak.

The little Beckon-Inner man

Shouts “You come in, come in!”

Then ushers us inside the place,

“Wa yu wan begin?”

“Y...

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Sleep easy, young Tadeus Makulski

Sleep easy, brave Zigmunt Kovacs too

Your torment of so many years is over

Sleep easy under English morning dew.

Continuing your fight against the enemy

High in foreign English cloudy sky

Not prepared to yield up your homeland

But avenge the Fates, if necessary, die.

Forsaking kith and kin in farms and factories

A...

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The Prologue

There’s a terminal station in old London Town

That carries a name of national renown

A name of a place where came tumbling down

A Frenchman’s imperial dreams

In Belgium in 1815.

The Battle

There stood mud ‘n’ puddles where once there’d stood flowers

It ‘ad bucketed stair rods for ‘ours ‘n’ ‘ours

It tested us patience; it tested ...

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They’re shutting our shops in the High Streets

Through losses and lack of new orders

But saddest to date I have to relate

Was the closure of Davygate Borders.

I used to pop in and delve through the shelves

Then leisurely lounge in the chairs,

Pick a novel or three to accompany tea

Which you read in the Starbuck’s upstairs.

I’ve done Bernard Cornwell and Bryson, of...

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(somebody much brighter than me wrote the title)

I never cease to be surprised while we're on holiday

At the number of occasions that a French waiter would say,

“Hello.  What can I get you?” in perfect Ang-a-lais

How did he know so quick that we were English?

While you're shopping in the mall you see a family of four

First, there's Mum and Dad, then little sp...

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(Gave this an airing at the Erotic Poetry Night at Malton last weekend, and managed to add the audio at last)

“What is the bidding?”

“The bidding is thine” she said.

He spoke and she took position,

Before him, in shadow.

“What is the bidding?”

“The bidding is thine” she said.

He held her hips.

He clicked his tongue softly in her ear,

Before tracin...

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Marbella's the spot for mooring your yacht

To ostentatiously show what you've got;

But a sight more evocative ploughing the foam

Much nearer the heart and closer to home

Was never a craft you'd look good in;

I refer to the Ponty Tom Pudding.

A cross between a barge and a train

With a tug at the bow taking the strain;

Everyday making 2 or 3 runs,

E...

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His spirit walks the terraces on Saturdays at three;

He's in the breezes blowing and the dust-whirls that you see;

That tingling of your hairline's when he touches you and me;

He's here, son; he's here at White Hart Lane.

Today you'd say he played midfield – in those days, inside right;

He gets his name form finding space when the marking's tight

The bloodlin...

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I held her in my arms that day

By the river, 'neath the ridge;

That was when she kissed me first

Upon the Biffin' Bridge.

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I’ve been a disappointment

To women all my life,

Starting with my mother

And ending with the wife.

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(Something new for the Erotic Poetry Night at Malton Literature Festival)

“What is the bidding?”

“The bidding is thine” she said.

He spoke and she took position,

Before him, in shadow.

“What is the bidding?”

“The bidding is thine” she said.

He held her hips.

He clicked his tongue softly in her ear,

Before tracing the line of her neck with it.

...

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"Great Expectations"

Then "Pride Comes Before a Fall"

"Les Miserables!"

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A professor of medicine from Chile

Is conducting research you'd think silly

His study comprises

Comparing the sizes

(I can see that you've guessed) of men's willies.

It seems the good Doctor's detected

Amongst the sample selected

That penises fall

Into “normal” or “small”

(That's under 2 inch when erected).

But a problem has hit his rese...

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We started at seven with everything fine

The Old People’s dance would be over by nine

We were lovely and cuddly, wise and benign

It was Christmas and things were so festive

No reason for it to get restive.

But the signs were all there when they brought out the tea

(You all get your cuppa and biscuit for free)

But the shit hit the fan when old Mrs McGee

Who ...

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I bought a pair of bronzes back in ‘62

You couldn’t help but notice they were tight

Better known as drainpipes to me and you

I got them on - they put up quite a fight.

I couldn’t bend, I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t run,

You shrunk them in the bath these proto-types

They cost me 10/6 – I was good and done

I confess I looked a twat in my pipes.

Salvation was at...

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There’s a bloke goes down our pub – he’ll be prob’ly scoffing grub

With the chips he eats he’ll never be a lean ‘un

On his head his trilby’s sat, so he’s known as “John the Hat”

With his motto, “I can get it” – he’s John Keenan.

I vowed I’d never read his book but I concede

I’ve broke my word and so I seek repentance;

I struggled for a while with its lack of classic styl...

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You never let us down. you Spurs,

We got beat fair and square;

Desperation I can cope with -

It's Hope that I can't bear.

(A Spurs fan)

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Mistaken for Hell’s Angel when in flight,

A silent sorcerer of secret wood,

His eerie form displaying by the night.

By day he lies invisible to sight

Pressed hard to bough and branch of Old Sherwood,

Belying this Hell’s Angel when in flight.

The churring call he makes is his birthright -

A challenge to the forest’s neighbourhood,

Preceding his bolero ...

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“You keep up with the brushing,

At least twice a day?

And have you done your flossin?”

“Wergly wergly werg”

“You keep good teeth“, he said to me

“But your gums recede.

How hard is your toothbrush?”

“Wergly wergly werg”

“You look well tanned for wintertime;

Have you been away?

“Wergly wergly wergly werg”

“Malta, do you say?”

“We w...

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Fair and Square

As every football fan will know

There’s times when you get beat;

When you simply say “Hard Luck”

And then accept defeat.

And to the winners say “Well Done”

Despite not being delighted;

This goes for every sporting fan -

Except for Man United.

For if you follow the Mighty Scum

As soon as your team loses

You consult you...

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There’s something that a husband like me dreads

That they ought to warn a bloke of when he weds;

That’s the fear of Our Gert’s call

And her ominous footfall;

That’s why the Great Almighty gave us sheds.

Before my sheds I’d guarantee fine well

I’d get caught doing nowt and I’d cop hell;

I tried mirrors round the yard and

Tripwires in the garden

And even ...

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We politely applaud our fellow performers;

We clap and we cheer like they all had stormers;

But deep down inside we’re like graveside mourners,

All envying plaudits received -

Remember the great Jimmy Greaves?

Throughout the sixties he was, on the whole,

Acknowledged the best in front of the goal;

Expected to play a centre-piece role

In Ramsey’s victorious ...

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Tuesday night at the G & D,

Quiz and supper for 50p,

Will we win?  We’ll have to see

When the marking’s done.

The team’s the same usually,

Comprised of friends and family -

All G & D devotees;

We don’t half have some fun.

Besides myself there’s Phil and Glen

(We knock on questions 1 to 10)

Glen knows them all though later when

He has us all in s...

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For 5 long years I’ve lived beside

These other senile twits,

In this home for retirees,

Biddies and Old Gits.

To offer some excitement

I read my poems out loud

And started to attract

An appreciative crowd.

40 perhaps or 50

Attentively sat round,

Hanging on my every word

Like I was Ezra Pound.

I read to them my comic verse

(I ...

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Beneath the roots of the Tree of Life,

The mythical Yggdrasil,

Live the Three Sisters of Fortune,

Three spinners sit weaving still.

Our fortunes favoured, fortunes damned,

Are spun to dusk from dawn,

The destinies of every man

Ordained before we’re born.

Spun threads of rope and threads of silk

And threads of finest gold;

With every one a path...

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(Finally managed the audio file)

Slowly, ever so slowly, inching on our way;

Destination Whitby, vivid Autumn day.

Scenery magnificent, weather matching too,

Clouds of alto cirrus, sky of powder blue.

Picking up momentum now, further down the line,

Engine snorting like a mare in steady 4/4 time.

Leaning from a window, moorland coasting by,

Nigel Gresl...

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As choking we emerged to sight, each blinking in the morning light

Not thinking that we ever might have seen the sun again;

By the pit gates loved ones waited, praying to their God that fate would

Hand us back unharmed from hated Death in Hell’s Domain;

Their ecstasy of dark relief these words cannot explain,

Nor bitter tears contain.

Two days before, a hammer’s sp...

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For nine hundred years we’ve turned our faces

From wretched York– the gesture marks its shame,

Concealing this greatest of disgraces.

The city no longer now embraces

Its son of York – Malebrisse was his name;

The citizens of York turn their faces.

He urged them baying with swords and maces,

A screaming mob intent to kill and maim

The brethren – the di...

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You’ve heard of the Battle of Hastings

Took place in 1066,

When ‘Arold the Brave of England

Fell for some Froggy’s cruel tricks

I refer to William the Conker

(Who’d conkered nowt up till then)

But pretended to run from t’battle

Then turned and skewered our men.

Then Billy let fly with an arrow

With venom its target to find

In consequence ‘Arol...

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One I've done for the Erotic Poetry Night of YLF (18-28 March)

Pretty, painted, piggy toes peep shyly through their shoe;

But discreetly I must keep my secret stare from you.

So slyly with more subtlety, a better view to gain,

I turn to your reflection in the window pane.

This private peepshow I enjoy, new thoughts to feel and find

And taste them so indulgent...

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Alain - I beg to differ about the true authorship of the plays of Shakespeare but the truth lies within.

You see it is self-evident

To note the way I complement

Sense and rhyme so eliquent,

Constructing verse with thrift;

One part’s ingenuity

The second sheer ability

The third a family legacy-

A rare ancestral gift.

Perhaps you won’t appreciate

...

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Will he come back if he grovels and he begs?

Do we step around the shells of broken eggs?

Are his days now all but over,

Like a British Leyland Rover?

Will he come back with his tail between his legs?

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For nine hundred years we’ve turned our faces

From wretched York– the gesture marks its shame,

Concealing this greatest of disgraces.

The city no longer now embraces

Its son of York – Malebrisse was his name;

The citizens of Yorkturn their faces.

He urged them baying with swords and maces,

A screaming mob intent to kill and maim

The brethren – the dir...

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You can stick it             anywhere you like

That’s up the back or front

Or somewhere              in between the two

(Not wishing to be blunt).

Because you’re the paying customer

You’re the Boss,          The Punter

As far as I’m concerned         you can

Stick it up your jumper.

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Slowly, ever so slowly, inching on our way;

Destination Whitby, vivid Autumn day.

Scenery magnificent, weather matching too,

Clouds of alto cirrus, sky of powder blue.

Picking up momentum now, further down the line,

Engine snorting like a mare in steady 4/4 time.

Leaning from a window, moorland coasting by,

Nigel Gresley out in front, cinder in your eye.

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My friends they both have thumb rings:

I wondered where they got ‘em:

And then I solved the mystery -

Up one another’s bottom!

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