1.Daughters

 

What is it with Daughters?

They’re such a pain

Even when they were little

They kept interrupting my sleep

They’re such a pain

 

Why can’t Daughters be like cars?

When you get fed up of them

You can trade them in for something else

Or, maybe recover a little bit of cash

They’re such a pain

 

Come to think of it, they are like cars

Smell funny when they’re new

Constantly require washing

Expensive and high-maintenance

They’re such a pain

 

Silly as I am, never had a test drive

Else I’d have known, just how much they whine

Constantly changing their gear

Always need filling up

They’re such a pain

 

Should have taken it for a spin

Realised what a bumpy ride they can give

Just how exhausting they can be

Always so cranky, blowing their gasket every month

They’re such a pain

 

I should have had a Son

Boys are just so much better

At anything I can think of

Like kicking a ball, scoring a hoop

Daughters are just a pain

 

A Son would be proud of his feeble facial hair

Whilst a Daughter spends all her time

Trying to get rid of the stuff

And forever changing the colour of her mop

Daughters are just a pain

 

And when it comes to education

I’ll have you know, even I’ve got three ‘O’ Levels

But those painful daughters

Insist that ‘A’ Levels and University and degrees

Are so much better – the way to go - what a pain.

 

But I can’t deny, when I see them now

All grown up and oh so smart

Barbie’s and Gameboy’s discarded

Beating me to the punchline

I can’t deny, I am just so, so proud

 

(PS.  I love my Daughters.  But this was a bit of fun at their expense (for a change - turn the tables now that I am old and wrinkly and an object of their fun...).  A

2.I can’t be dead

I can’t be dead

That just wouldn’t be right

Things to do, Words unsaid

Books unread, verses still to write

 

I can’t be dead

That just wouldn’t be right

I eat Muesli, Yoghurt and Granary bread

And I’ve never had to ask for a light

 

I can’t be dead

That just wouldn’t be right

I drink only enough units to keep a clear head

And make sure that I remain upright

 

I can’t be dead

That just wouldn’t be right

I don’t remember feeling any dread

No unexplained feelings of stage-fright

 

I can’t be dead

That just wouldn’t be right

Perhaps I’m being deliberately misled

To see whether or not I’d get uptight

 

I can’t be dead

That just wouldn’t be right

I’m sure I cleaned my teeth and went to bed

I’m sure I was feeling just fine last night

 

I can’t be dead

That just wouldn’t be right

After the perfect life I’ve led

Surely that just can’t be right

 

However, I do indeed appear to be dead

The Doc has confirmed that this is right

There’s no need to reserve a hospital bed

Death snuck up stealthy and quiet overnight

 

I can’t quite believe I’m dead

It just doesn’t quite seem to be right

If that were true, I’m supposed to be looking down from overhead

I think, somewhere, there must have been some terrible oversight