(Does this complete my miscellany of Christmas Brexit songs?  Wait and see)

I’m dreaming of a hard Brexit

So we can make Great Britain great

Then the British nation

Can halt immigration

And send the Polacks back. But wait!

My dreaming of a hard Brexit

Has now been stuffed by Mrs May

She has blown Hard Brexit away

Cos the Poles and all others now can stay.

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("One season wonder; he's just a one season wonder". A re-post. But, there again, there will be plenty of them as he keeps scoring hat-tricks)

I‘ve fallen for another man

A man that I would marry;

And though I know I never can

I’ve lost my heart to Harry.

Hats off to Harry; he’ll break your heart

He’ll take your best defence and tear it apart

Our home-grown guy will ...

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(A re-post for all the little children at Christmas)

You all know Santa Claus

The saint each child adores

He brings the good ones gifts, does Pere Noel;

But I’m his kith and kin

I punish kids that sin;

I’m Krampus and I harvest souls for Hell.

And unlike brother Nick

Well, I bring a big stick

To beat the naughty children till they yell,

“Have mercy, Santa, p...

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(The third in my Carols for a Brexit Christmas series)

We Three Things your obstacles are

Immigrants you’d like to debar

You also ignored a

Neighbour’s border

Thirdly, your bill so far.

Send them home to Poland today

This is why we voted that way.

Wait a second!

We never reckoned

Treeza would let them stay.

Ignorance we thought to be bliss

“Vote f...

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(The second of my Brexit Christmas Carols)

We’ll wreck it all with Brexit folly

Fa la la la la la la la la”

Half the nation’s off its trolley

Fa la la la la la la la la”

“Shove two fingers up to Europe

Let’s take back our sovereignty”

Nothing can explain why we would

Vote so suicidally.

To an economic grave is

Fa la la la la la la la la”

Where we’re led b...

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Since it cost me nearly twenty thousand pound

I asked in morbid curiosity

“So tell me, dearest daughter, how've you found

Your first year at the University?”

She must have thought she'd have me for a fool

So tongue in cheek she answered very drolL

“It's pretty much as your days, Dad, at school -

A life of sex and drugs and Rock 'n' Roll”.

Well, at these words...

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(I heard the title suggested by a caller on Radio 5Live this morning and I thought, "There's a poem there!")

God Bless Ye Merrie Brexit Men whom nothing shall dismay

Your triumph of democracy was Referendum Day

Ye saved us all from Europe’s powers but stuffed Theresa May

While yon Corbyn just rubs his hands with joy

Unbridled joy

Yes, he rubs his hands with gladness and with...

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(A couple of years ago I had the honour to be invited to co-write the school song for our village school. The recording is of the children singing it at one of their concerts.  There is something selfishly flattering about hearing something you've created being performed by others).

On mornings when I feel so blue

and my spirits saddened

I join with all my friends at school

where ...

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The half-term is now over and the kids all back in school

The ashes on the bonfire seem so sad when wet and cool

No sooner have the trick-or-treaters buggered off than then

It’s lousy rotten Christmas time again.

The tinsel in shop windows and huge santas look so crass

For Heaven’s sake, you’d think they’d wait and let November pass!

It’s time to hand your hard-earned cash t...

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I’d just cleaned up the clagnuts of a right humongous dump

When my reverie it got disturbed and on the door a thump

Announced the cleaner’s coming so I quickly let her in;

She raced hot-foot into the bog and bent beside the rim

Proceeding with her bogbrush to scour the crap within;

I saw we shared a fetish which is difficult to find

So I lifted up her tabard and I blobbed her fro...

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Everybody’s doing The Tax Evasion

(Come on, baby, do some tax evasion)

Stashing all your cash abroad and fleecing the nation

(Come on, baby, do some tax evasion)

So be like Lewis Hamilton avoiding tax

We’ve scams to offset yachts and planes and Cadillacs

So come on, come on

Do some tax evasion today;

You oughta hide your cash away.

Come on, baby

We’re lax, so lax

I...

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(A little belated.  He died in 1982.  But never forgotten.)

This elergy marks t’sad decline o’ Barnsley’s market ‘all

Epitomised by t’absence of one vacant butcher’s stall.

Its loss a cause o’ lamentation, keening an’ far worse

Purveyor ‘ere par excellence of pies – owd Albert ‘irst.

They mun speak o’ Melton Mowbray but owd Albert ‘ad ‘em beat

Not least because ‘is grow...

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The fashion today’s

For Free Verse, I’d say

But I find the discipline neater

To write poetry

Accentually;

The soul of the work is The Metre.

I’m not autocratic

Nor even dogmatic

And occasionally I might complete a

Piece without form,

Which isn’t my norm,

But then I return to The Metre.

Sometimes there’s a price

For being precise

You’ll need, now ...

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(A song stolen from me by Hot Chocolate when they titled their plagiarised cover version, "Emma, Emma Emmeline". At least they had the good grace to nod in my direction by calling themselves Hot Chocolate.  A certainty for Poem of the Week.)

I saw your business card and photo in the booth;

It said that you were 21 and that’s the truth;

Your legs were long, your boobs were firm, bum l...

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It started with a kiss,

Never thought it would come to this;

I’m labelled as it is

A predator misogynist;

You and I had danced all night

Beneath the strobe light’s glow,

So when we reached the dance floor’s edge

Underneath the mistletoe

Your cheek was resting on my chest;

I lifted up your head

And kissed your forehead gently then;

I must have been misled;

But ho...

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(A poem written for my son-in-law to read at the funeral of his mate who was killed by a hit-and-run driver recently. He didn't want anything mawkish)

I know this bloke – a friend of mine

We’ve shared some laughs, some special times

He liked a beer, he liked a wine;

Yep, that’s Michael.

I knew him well as you did too

If you don’t mind then what I’ll do

Is share my me...

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…and here’s another thing.  This occurred to me after ruminating that eskimos have over 30 words for “snow”.  Likewise, and equally apocryphally, Bedouin Arabs have huggins of words for “sand”.

It comes from the fact that if snow and sand is all you’ve got to look at all day, you’ll rabbit on about it in fine distinctions, rather like the numpties who can discern differences between Coronation ...

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We praised the God of Yorkshire that October afternoon

It’s not a day we’ll be forgetting sometime very soon;

The scoreboard told the story – it had ended 2 to 1

We sang songs to their glory – the Terriers had won!

They blamed the pitch; they blamed the ref. Oh, how United squealed!

They might have beat Benfica…

                        …but they lost to Huddersfield!

We s...

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I'm intrigued by the recent "Me Too" movement which is born from the revelations about Harvey Wallbanger, movie mogul, cinema tsar, casting couch Cassanova et al.

Let me say from the off that I have no truck whatsoever with men who do not know that "No" means "No". Beyond "No" it is rape, pure and simple. But I am a bit perplexed by posts I have read which lump unwanted sexual advances into the...

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I’ve seen many movies that starred Vincent Price

Or Karloff or Christopher Lee

I’ve watched at the cinema or on the box

Where I’ve peeped from behind the settee.

I saw Captain Quint get clean bit in half

By a fish we just knew as Jaws

The Exorcist too made me sweat at what next

They’d find behind those bedroom doors.

The genre I fear most of all of these, though,

Th...

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Cammie called George when he got the word

He said “ I suppose you’ve heard about Boris?”

George rushed to the telly, put the news on live

He could hardly believe his eyes

There was Treeza with her P45

And Boris.

They weren’t little children who played at their school

They weren’t teenage sweethearts love made into fools

But for several years she’s been sitting next doo...

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(Sometimes you try to write and nothing comes. Sometimes the Gods of Parody drop one in your lap)

Treeza chancin’                her luck at the scene

Treeza hopin’                    to recapture her dream

Lead the Party                   restore some control

Then some pillock            says Treez on the dole.

A Party gate-crasher with her P45

A Party gate-crasher wit...

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I‘ve fallen for another man

A man that I would marry;

And though I know I never can

I’ve lost my heart to Harry.

Hats off to Harry; he’ll break your heart

He’ll take your best defence and tear it apart

Our home-grown guy will make you others cry cry cry

Hat-trick Harry’s hit the net again.

In Autumn and in Springtime too

Or winter when it’s raining

You know ...

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CHAPTER VI – HOUSEWORK

The newly married man of today faces challenges unknown to his father and grandfather.  Sexual equality has pushed him towards the domain of housework, previously the preserve of his wife; interestingly, without reciprocity in the fields of car washing and mowing the lawns.

But not to despair.  The keynote here is “Managing Expectations”.

A rookie will be tempted to...

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(A re-post from 5 years ago but you can't get enough of culture.  Laughing Lenny stole this from me).

I remember it well, “The Crossroads Motel”

Your acting consistently shite,

Giving my head through the script being read

A migraine that lasted all night;

But those were the days; I rode BSAs;

We watched on our screens black and white;

Your actors were poor, the walls and ...

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Well, me hear folks tellin’ me them Biskit Blues ‘in’t bad

Yeah, me hear folks tellin’ me them Biskit Blues ‘in’t bad

Bad Biskit Blues most worse me ever had.

Well, me told mi bitch to make me cup o’ tea

Milk, two sugars in mi Yorkshire tea

“You make your own and one for me,” says she.

Now you know me, me top dog gangsta man

Haddlesey Massive Boss is what me am

So...

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As worldwide fans will know, besides my literary prowess in the field of poetry, I also do folk open mics. I am acutely aware however that I am a poor singer and feel the need to apologise for this. I also explain that I am far from the best guitarist. But I add that I am, however, the best looking.

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Besides, why the bloody hell do they feel the need to look so miserable? Do they imagine if they looked more happy-go-lucky that I'd be less likely to part with my 2p? Well they're regally wrong.

Now don't misunderstand me. I never pass a busker or street entertainer without chucking them a few bob. They enrich my day. But I'll be buggered if I'm going to subsidise some scuzzie's fags or Kennom...

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He put some hours in at the Abbey, did Luuk.  Just as a volunteer, you understand.  Mostly in the café but he’d lend a hand humping and shoving if heavier work needed it.

He was Dutch and spoke good English with that clipped precision of his countrymen.  His biggest giveaway were “S’s” which, like many other Dutch people he pronounced “Sh”.  He was a big bloke and always eating and I remember h...

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I noticed just the other day my trousers wouldn’t fit

The waistband button wouldn’t meet the eyelet opposite

Our Gert took in this sorry sight and then got in a huff

“You’re going on a diet with me” she said. “Enough’s enough”.

She brought a Slimming World plan home and said I’d have to try it

Courgette and sweet potato bake – what a fucking diet!

There’s green tea and ...

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They reckon a man needs an ‘obby

To balance ‘is work, rest and play;

An’ also there’s summat about Idle ‘Ands

And keeping the devil at bay.

Meself, I’ve tried some pastimes and games

But just when I get in the groove

Our Gert makes ‘er views abundantly plain;

It’s clear – Our Gert don’t approve!

I ought to provide some examples

To substantiate just what I mean,

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(It's our 37th wedding anniversary shortly)

I splashed out on this greetings card,

It cost me 50p,

I thought that you were worth it,

For putting up with me.

But yours, I know, will cost far more,

(Perhaps a quid or two),

But that’s because I’m worth far more,

For putting up with you.

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(They really could be a right set of bastards.  And the thing that's "warm and wet" might be described as a form of aural sex).

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

Of “Who...

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(Inspired by the current World Athletics Championships to re-post this.  It pulls together two important threads of drug abuse in athletics with one of my many puerile sexual fetishes.  For younger viewers the GDR was the ironically named German Democratic Republic - East Germany).

Those hotties from the GDR

Who putt the shot or cleared the bar

Or sprinted for a 100 metres

Were tr...

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(An old song from after the 2012 Olympic Games.  I never got round to posting it)

Hey Mo!

What you doing with that gold in your hand, now?

Hey Mo!

What you doing with more gold in your other hand, now?

“I’ll show the world this gold from the rostrum stand, now.”

Hey Mo!

No-one alive can run the way that you ran, now

Hey Mo!

No-one alive can run the way that you...

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(A re-post.  But you can't have enough culture, I say)

I thought I’d address my wobbly gut

And give liposuction a try

Cos slimming alone wouldn’t do what I want

And this is my main reason why.

It’s not that I want to lower my weight

I’m perfectly happy to stick

I just want to redistribute some of my fat

By having it pumped in my prick.

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When my dad was in his failing years my sister, Linda, and I used to visit him in his sheltered accommodation at Worksop (she, I confess, much more frequently than me).

She tells me the tale about one of her visits.

They’d talked for an hour or more when she asked him out of the blue,

“Do you have any regrets about your life, dad; anything you’d do differently if you had your time again?”...

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I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandad recently. He died almost 60 years ago when I was about seven (I think).

He’d been a miner and had been blacked by the coalowners from the pits of Nottinghamshire for striking.  My grandmother, with six kids to feed, threw him out and told him not to come back until he had found work.  So he walked to Doncaster (around 40 miles away) and got a job at Ben...

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You will know, my friend, that these rings plot the age of the tree. Count them and you will find its age. Few, however, can read their individual story – a story as unique as the snail’s shell or the lines on your own hand.  Pull closer and watch.

This outermost ring differs in colour slightly from the rest.  It is the oldest and makes the start of ageing decay, when the wood is said to become...

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Now de Party was nice and de Party was thumpin’

( Hup, hup, hup, Yippi-i-o)

Treez she de boss – no hassle at all

( Hup, hup, hup, Yippi-i-o)

But now it’s not so Treeza weeza dumpin’

(Yippi-i-o)

So who’ll be next? Who ye gonna call?

Who let Rees-Mogg out (woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)

Who let Rees-Mogg out (woof, woof, woof, woof, woof)

Who let Rees-Mogg out (woof, w...

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I hear it said Theresa needs to go, quick and clean

“She’s got no right to govern with seats of just 318”;

But does it ever occur unto you,

How come that Jezza does with 262?

I know that I’m no Mastermind nor am I entirely green;

It baffles me a little though why it is May’s 318

Is thought to be a number too few

Compared with Jezza’s fewer 262.

They say she has no...

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(Yer tiz. Not really a "Part 2" but a re-post of a recent one but with added audio for the delectation and delight of my worldwide fans)

Never thought I’d see you look so weak and wobbly tonight

As Champion of the Right

And so unstable;

Never thought I’d see your Party in such disarray

They’re after you Mrs May

A Tower of Babel.

You have never seemed so desperate

And i...

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I am aware that many of my WOL chums see me as a little hard-hearted. Perhaps an incident that happened the other day will mollify this somewhat.

It was in Brighton and it was stonking hot. Our Gert and me decided to get an ice cream. But on the prom these could cost you £2.50 or more! So we found a Sainsbury's where we got a pack of three Soleros for £1.50. Result.

We were eating them when ...

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( Chopped this one into little lines to make it a proper poem)

There were four or maybe five of them.

He couldn't quite make out.

And obviously the one holding the phone.

And her

There was laughing

And screaming

Then the laughing stopped

But not the screaming

After a few minutes that stopped too.

The only sounds left were solitary voices

Brave voices

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I've always been disgusted to see old blokes who'd pissed down their fronts.  Well, I suppose that age has now granted me some wisdom into this phenomenon, which I ascribe to a number of factors.

1.  As a man gets older his waistline thickens so he pulls his trousers up ever higher to his narrowest girth, usually just under his tits. (The significance of this will soon be apparent).

2.  This...

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(Unable to post an audio or pic on the iPad as I am on holiwags.  But it seemed there was an urgency to post this before she went!)

Never thought I'd see you look so weak and wobbly tonight,

Champion of the Right;

You look unstable.

Never thought I'd see your Party in disarray,

At odds with you, Mrs May -

A Tower of Babel;

You have never seemed so desperate

And in need...

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It’s a matter of some pride to me that I am one of the few remaining people to retain a measure of admiration for Tony Blair.  It’s always seemed to me that his reputation has been blighted by his biggest mistake.

What is largely overlooked these days about him and his governments is that he

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Despite attaining most seats

The Tories don’t cheer in the streets;

There’s no horsey din

For they barely scraped in

With a Win that feels like Defeat.

It’s Labour who gortle and grin,

Delighting in rubbing it in;

They preen with conceit

In blogs and in tweets

With Defeat that feels like a Win.

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(Commissioned to write some poems for a Poetry Garden.  I thought, "What a cracking idea!  I'll do one for myself").

The Rockery

Profusive colour you will see

Amid this floodbank rockery;

There’s primrose and geranium

And shy mesembryanthemum;

Bright marigolds bob and wink

Dianthus add a splash of pink;

And never have I had a failure

When I’ve planted pompom dahlias...

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Two of the most popular women at Durham when I was a student there were The Gobbler and Black Dog.  I didn’t know their real names – I wasn’t in their company long enough to find out.

But they were good sports and did their best on the back seat of the rugby coach as we returned from away matches to commiserate with the team if we’d lost or celebrate if we’d won.  The remedy was the same.

Th...

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Our Gert went on ‘er holiwags Wi’ ‘er best mate called Jane

Two Girls Aloud to Egypt; It’s peace fo’ me again.

It’s egg n chips fo’ breakfast ‘N’ pie ‘n’ chips fo’ tea

You’re wond’rin’ about me dinner - It’s fish ‘n’ chips fo’ me.

Of course I ‘ad a can or two; Wi’ breakfast it’s Long Life

Then pints o’ lager down the pub (You can, wi’out the wife).

I ‘ad, o’ course, a bet or...

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We’ve basked in the sunshine, we’ve dripped in the rain

We’ve cried tears of joy and we’ve cried tears of pain

We’ve fathomed the depths and ascended the heights

But stayed ever faithful to those Lily Whites

There’s nothing more stirs

The pulse than the Spurs

But now it’s Farewell to the Lane.

I started this love affair when it was with

Blanchflower and Greavsie and bi...

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(We did it!  To commemorate my 65th birthday, my daughter, the intrepid Samantha Coopey, and I did a marathon on a gym rowing machine on Sunday in aid of The Teenage Cancer Trust.  We've raised just shy of a thousand pounds.  This poem is a re-post of an earlier one I did when I was a spring chicken of 58).

We entered for a sponsored run -

Macmillan Cancer Trust;

All four of us deter...

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(Of course, although he was a Pinball Wizard in 1967, he would have married his teenage bride, Elsie, and both would have been a pensioners now)

Ever since I’ve been an old man I’ve rolled those wooden balls

Both indoors and on crown green , I must have played them all

But I ain’t seen nothing like her and doubt I ever could

That big, fat Elsie – sure bowls a mean six wood.

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As worldwide fans will know I have built my literary renown on the twin-axle of rhythm and rhyme.  Finely wrought turns of phrase coupled with lyrical embellishments have been my signature.

More recently however I have been impressed with the views proffered in Discussions that the quintessence of poetry is brevity; that anyone aspiring to the art should learn to edit and purge, edit and purge,...

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For forty four years since I was a lad

I’ve voted for Labour just like my dad;

When Labour was Old and when Labour was New

We voted for Wilson and Callaghan’s crew

For Foot and for Blair and for Miliband too.

For while Labour was proud and once a broad church

It welcomed allcomers which made it so strong;

It’s now more exclusive and leftwards it’s lurched

I’m...

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There is often a temptation among the more politically naïve of us to deplore our government’s sidling up to countries with questionable human rights records. In the past, Pinochet’s Chile was am example.  Currently I could cite Saudi Arabia or even China.

Well, set yourselves back 70 years to an issue which could have resulted in the world hegemony of German Nazism today.  The story of the KKK...

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There are some scenarios which are just too good to miss for parodying.  I have targeted in the past Sepp Blatter, David Cameron, George Osborne, Boris Johnson, Nigel Farage, Brexiters, Remoaners and (to the disgruntlement of leftie chums who seem to think that their national treasures should be immune) Jezza Corbyn, Diane Abbott and Tony Benn.  The richest vein by far has been Donald Trump.

Bu...

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(A cardinal sin sometimes committed by a raw recruit was to take your shovel into a narrow seam 'wrong road round'. You didn't do it twice.)

“There’s no bigger, silly bastard undergroun’

A disgrace to thee, ‘is mam an’ ‘is class

‘E took ‘is fuckin’ shovel wrong road roun’.

We’d walked back in once t’shotties fired their roun’

An’dep’ty said as we wa’ clear o’ gas

There’...

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On 7th May I shall attempt a Charity Marathon Row along with my daughter, Samantha, in aid of the TEENAGE CANCER TRUST. I do not wish to visit the WOL well too many times, but anyone who would like to support these kids can do so on my Just Giving page https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/John-Coopey?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=shares-from-email&utm_campaign=page-create-email-share-facebook&u...

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I’ve always considered my body

A shrine or a temple of sorts,

Honed to perfection by exercise

Like snooker and other pub sports.

But lately I’ve noticed a blemish

To mar my immaculate bod,

So I’m starting to look like John Prescott

And less like a Classical God.

Besides being most unsightly

They’re open to much ridicule,

A feature that’s rather less wel...

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“Hail to the Chief of Old Mother Rossiya

Oops!  A slip – I mean USA”

But Dubya and Ronald

Were brighter than Donald

At the time, though, you all said, “No Way!”

There’s no disputing

That Vladimir Putin

Is, like me, brilliant and fab

We’re sharing a bromance

But pooftahs?  Hell! No chance!

Preferring some pussy or titties to grab.

He wouldn’t hack mail

...

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(I'm sure Ikea would be prepared to use my poem in their advertising if ever I decided to prostitute my art.  A re-post but, honestly, you can't have too much of a good thing)

I just don’t know what to do with my shelf

I just don’t know what to do with my shelf

It’s a bargain I bought from Ikea in town

Now the bugger’s fallen down

I used 2 inch screws

I just don’t know what ...

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(In the unlikely event that Starbucks decide to offer me a commission to promote their coffee I have had this one in the oven for quite some time.  A re-post)

Though it may give you a seizure

There’s a roast from Indonesia

Acknowledged as the best where e’er you roam;

It will hurt you to cough up

For it’s £50 a cup,

So you’ll need another mortgage on your home.

To pr...

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I’m afraid this is one of those self-indulgent pieces poets write when they can’t think of anything to write about; so they write about Poetry.  Most indulgently of all, they write about not being able to write about poetry.

I confess I too have fallen for this seduction.  My motivation, though, is a little unusual.

You see, my problem is that having written some of the finest lines of verse...

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("If you tried to give rock 'n' roll another name you might call it Chuck Berry" - John Lennon.  Played acoustically on my 3-string cigar box guitar)

Left my home in Selby, North Yorkshire

Paradise on my mind

Headed South to the capital

To see what we could find.

Cruising along the carriageway

With sunshine from the East

Thinking about the Mighty Spurs

And the upcoming...

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I’d like to find a girl that’s like those on the internet

Who don’t take no persuading into bed

I’m sure they’re all like that out there, it’s just the ones I’ve met

Aren’t into anal sex and giving head.

I must be so unlucky cos on all the sites I view

The girls are into this without exception

No sooner has the pizza boy delivered stuff to you

Than his customer is gobbling his...

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(Following on from the Luke Wright outburst on poetry in adverts, I thought I would offer my commission to Dyson if they were inclined to use this.)

We trudged round Designer Outlet

A day full of dull misery

I’d sampled a few cups of coffee

Which meant that I needed a pee.

I nipped to the public convenience

And read all the ads on the wall

Avoiding the one on Viagra

(A...

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Once I was the Party’s rising star

Made it then to Leader  as UKIP’s Tsar

Set myself the image of The People’s Bloke

Gonna shake the country when I win in Stoke.

Then I began to slur my name

Telling pork pies with that Hillsborough claim

Lost to Labour last week in the poll

Now looking for a job to keep me off of the dole.

Cos nobody wants you when you’re down and out

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(It's next week, sisters)

Raise your voices; sisters speak!

International Women’s Week.

Banish weakness.  Let’s be strong.

Time to right what has been wrong.

Linking arms in sisterhood,

Pledged to Justice, pledged to Good.

Standing proud and standing tall,

The worth of one the strength of all

Yellow, brown or black or white

Joined together in the fight.

Joined...

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(A celebration of the Adrian Mole poetry I wrote as a teenager.  And containing the finest line of verse ever to come from Chapel Haddlesey)

Mi firstest poems wa’ yonks ago;

I’ve lost ’em (God be thankst!);

Full o’ trite naivety

An’ post-pubescent angst.

Some of them’s political

(I put the world to right)

I solved world 'unger on mi own -

Right On! An’ Outta ...

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(LABOUR - ELEVATING DENIAL INTO A POLICY)

We’re all going to a Labour funeral

Just like lemmings led by Corbyn’s crew

Spouting dogma for the daft and gullible

And swallowed by his retinue

Who haven’t thought it through.

This for me’s not remotely original

Though it may seem that it is for you

This will be my second Labour funeral

I saw one in the 80’s too

Wh...

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Can you see the wall, Fernando?

And though it keeps out those Norwegians and the lousy Finns

It’s to keep you out, Fernando

And those chocolate facey, Muslim types who fled the Middle East

We decided Trump was right and that your intake be decreased.

We don’t want you here, Fernando

Because you don’t drive Volvos or won’t try our pickled fish

There’s no room for you, Fern...

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As worldwide fans will know, I am partial to my history.  I’m currently working my way through the “Horrible Histories” compendium by Terry Deary – kid’s stuff but absolutely brilliant.

Edging ever closer as I am towards my box and away from my cot, I have given some thought as to the manner of my departure.  I am concentrating on three aspects – my cremation, my ashes and my wake, and you will...

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(No idea at all what this is about)

Sometimes in our lives

We crave that rain

That’s sweet as flowers;

And when it arrives

Then I will drink

Those golden showers.

Pee on me

Crouch into place

Squat on my face

You need to be on me;

Ooohh, Percy’s so strong

It won’t take long

When somebody pees on me.

Please!  I love Sextreme

I can afford; I...

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(Too good an opportunity to miss a rework of the Bob Dylan ballad "To Ramona")

Remoaners, dull droners, like fleas that just buzz in your ears

With whingeing and bleating and sobbing and crocodile tears

They won’t take no note of

The will of the voters

Insisting that they still know best

Despite democratically

And quite emphatically

Failing the ballot box test.

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(Marvellous display of principled conscience by Diane Abbott to avoid shafting her leader or her constituents)

Woke up this morning feeling fine

Remembered the vote and felt weak in the spine

Lord, Lord, I’ve got that Bad Brexit Flu;

A man does his duty when Duty Calls

But hold up a minute – I’ve got no balls

Lord, Lord, I’ve got them Bad Brexit Blues.

Awkward time o...

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(With huge apologies to Prokofiev or, indeed, anyone with ears who listens to this!)

Romeo, oh, Romeo, embrace across our lands

Juliet, oh, Juliet, let’s hold together hands.

Juliet, oh, Juliet, you’re leaving the EU

You’re running out of lovers so I’ve made my move on you.

Romeo, oh Romeo, you’re now my only friend

I’ll prostitute my honour if your dollars you will len...

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(Without question, the best day of the week)

The replacement hip Gives me some jip

And my Tens just overflowed

I need Deep Heat For arthritic feet

In winter when it’s snowed

And drivers reprimand me

For shuffling across the road

But I still have reason To enjoy each season

For the rest of the time I’m owed.

I’ll tell you why I Just love Mondays

I’ll tell you why...

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(A piece I wrote 40 years ago in support of retirement at 60 for mineworkers. Harold Wilson was Prime Minister and Derek Ezra was Chairman of the National Coal Board.  I was a young recruit)

At the end of this month I shall be 59

And for 44 years I’ve worked in the mines

When once I was strong, for my health I now fear

I ought to retire at the end of the year.

I’ve worked ...

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Will they come through the darkness? Will they come?

Or screaming with the dawning of the sun?

Is it time to fire the beacon?

Lest men’s resolve should weaken

Should we tell the boy to beat the battle drum?

Does that eastern glow mean Jarrow’s over-run

And presages the stinking Viking scum?

To visit us with thunder

To pillage, rape and plunder

Returning thence ...

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(In 1190 the Jews of York were harried into Clifford's Tower where they sought sanctuary from the mob.  The Tower at that time was wooden.  History is unclear whether the mob broke in and killed them, setting the Tower on fire, or whether they did so themselves to affirm their faith.  Until recently York was the subject of an edict of Judaism that any Jew passing York should turn their head away. ...

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It worries me quite witless

His head is made of mutton

But I’m truly worried shitless

His finger’s on the button.

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(Spanish hawkers)

They’re nowt but bloody pests

They never let it rest

“Your braided hair look nice

Sekonda watch is Asda price

New, oooh

Brand new, oooh.

We sell them all.”

“My battery wriggly toys,

Headlamps for girls and boys”

They never let it rest

They’re nowt but bloody pests

“New, oooh

Brand new, oooh

We sell them all.”

“Just arriv...

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(Something to mark the seasonal weather we're having. A poem I wrote - a true story - a few years ago.  The saying is also genuine.)

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”.

...

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(Following the enormous success of my previous post "Villanelle for a Shed" among you fellow shedren, I have decided to treat the world to a re-post of my classic "Your First Hut is the Cheapest", an original cruelly stolen from me by Cat Stevens, PP Arnold, Rod Stewart etc)

I could have bought a good shed from the start

But I got one from the Exchange and Mart

Now the buggers starte...

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I spend my daylight hours in my shed

I’d like to stop there longer if I could

The only thing that’s missing is a bed.

I brew a coffee or a tea instead

(I ought to clean the pot; I really should!)

The daylight hours pass smoothly in my shed.

Although my armchair’s shot it must be said

I doze off sometimes in all likelihood

I really could do with a put-up bed.

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They sat across the room from each other that night; he on the settee, she in the armchair facing.

It was a night of waiting.  Their partners had been at a meeting together and were due home soon.

They had spoken of many things.  Light things.  Little things.  Friends both at ease and ill at ease.  Although they were alone there was something in that room with them which could neither be see...

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Generally speaking, I’m all in favour of sustainable energy.  “Leave it in the ground”, I say; or rather, “Leave most of it in the ground”.

See, I have a particular use for petroleum jelly for which I haven’t found a suitable alternative.

I think the stuff is pumped from wells near Newcastle in its unrefined state before being processed for commercial sale.  A tub costs 67p from Bargain Madn...

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