New (2020)

June 13 (2020).

The Lockdown`s nearly over
And so declines the fear
Of catching covid nineteen
From anybody near
And so emerge the rabble
Brave and confident
To air their petty grievances
And social discontent
Shoulder to shoulder
They gather, chant and bind
As the great pandemic slackens
It`s grip upon mankind
The sobering reality
Of a still and peaceful May
Fades into obscurity
With every passing day
Slowly and reluctantly
Our towns and cities rise
From the realms of silent slumber
Of an earthly paradise
The rabble is emerging
Now all the threats are gone
Which leads me to a sorry fact
And truth to linger on
There`s no such thing as heaven
Where all good souls do dwell
For if there was then surely
Man would make it hell !

June 12 (2020).

I`m deeply offended -
All my life`s a frown
I think I`ll join the BLM
And tear a statue down
One that`s nice and easy
And one that isn`t black
Preferably an Englishman
One who can`t fight back
Life is so oppressive
I have no job or wife
And I need some cool excitement
To liven up my life
The time is ripe for anarchy
The cops are so afraid
Kneeling down to lawlessness
And few arrests are made
So off I go with passion
And join the wrecking crew
Of the affluent and middle-class
With nothing else to do
It should be a doddle
And if they cannot cope
I`ll take along some paint spray
And help them pull the rope
And if there are no statues
I`ll lead on the attack
And trash the Tower or London Bridge
And other things like that !

June 12 (2020).

Will Greyfriars Bobby
Be the next to go
As Black Lives Matter
Seek out statues more
Bobby was a terrier
Immortalized with pride
Who slept by Auld Jack`s graveside
Until the day he died
Although he was no racist
Cats he did detest
And he hounded and oppressed them
With unrelenting zest
Which makes him a terrorist
And racist in a way
And they`ve put him on a pedestal
On glorious display
Cat`s Live`s Matter
As well as black or white
Who will be the next to fall
To the protesters delight ?
They`re full of twisted passion
Restless, bored and vexed -
It could be anything at all
They will pick on next

June 9 (2020).

No more will I the holy place,
A mosque or church attend
Man`s universal fawnings
Drive me round the bend.
I will not plead to heaven
Nor God to make me strong
Or any man on earth to teach
Me what is right or wrong
It`s in my heart already
By Nature`s die impressed
I trust the path I`m taking
And know it is the best
I do not wish by grace to rise
And soar like an eagle
To glide upon the rising draft
In realms aloof and regal
Nor would I be the singing lark
Or coo like a dove
In praise of God`s sweet mercy
And everlasting love
I`m not for prayer or worship -
I`d rather be a pigeon -
If I do good - I feel good -
That is my religion !

June 8 (2020).

Edward Coleson is submerged
Where he deserves to be
Deep in Bristol harbour
For all eternity
They built a statue to him
A monument of praise
For trading blacks around the world
In the evil slaving days
The dark past of Britain
Has come to haunt her shore
For crimes against humanity
Committed long ago
His cold black form lies in the mud
In a dark and lonely place
Where barnacles and jellyfish
Swim around his face
Who stop and look into his eyes
And see two heartless holes
Filthy rich and famous
By selling human souls
Oh Britain you are guilty
Of wretched evils done
Perpetrated in this land
Beneath the rising sun
Nature won`t excuse the wrong
For this hideous human trade
And history will condemn us
Until all debts are paid.

June 8 (2020).

Black lives matter
Is all the rage today
Incited by a tragedy
Five thousand miles away
To force our minds to listen
And make us understand
Crowds of menace gather
In this our peaceful land
All the world is racist
And so they run amock
Trying to persuade themselves
They are racist not
These copycats of anarchy
For idle causes strive
To stir us with their grievances
To make them feel alive
These losers of society
Are out to force our hand
The quiet, contented citizens
And people of this land
For noble cause and reason
Is not their worthy goal
But to group and virtue-signal
Bully and control
They want to change our instincts
And Nature over night
And blind us in submission
To see a black as white
And yet before these protests
All was right - not wrong
Perhaps they are the racists
And have been all along.

June 6 (2020).

There`s not much in the news today
Carona`s on the wane
Flaming June`s turned nasty
With freezing cold and rain
Markle`s back in Hollywood
Where she longed to be
Among the rich and famous
In a mansion by the sea
Unlike poor Madeline Macan
The mystery`s unfurled -
She was abducted by a monster
In a cold and wicked world
There`s violence in America
And riotous affray
As Trump holds up a bible
To usher it away
And still earth keeps turning
Ignoring all we know
Just like it always has done
For a billion years or so
This vain mankind of drama
Piteous in it`s plight
Means nothing to the sun by day
Or to the stars at night
Nature doesn`t listen
Or heeds the human cry
Nor views our self-importance
Above mouse or fly
But live we must and prosper
When all is said and done
And so we read the daily news
To see what`s going on !

June 5 (2020).

The lockdown`s nearly over
And we strive with health aglow
To carry on our busy lives
The way we did before
Each to his passion
In freedom to pursue
The turmoil of normality
With confidence anew
The prison term is over
Suspended for a while
So we can take our tags off
And venture out in style
Unfettered and unhindered
Together or alone
Six feet apart in liberty
The world is ours to roam
It`s back to work for Britain
As we all reflect and reel
From an episode of history
Disarming and surreal
The kids are going back to school
And the traffic starts to flow
As the shops begin to trade again
And the tension starts to grow
We`ll soon be back to normal
To keep our heads afloat
Working for a living
To bingo, pubs and sport
But I`ll miss the silence of it all -
The peace and tranquil state
It was heaven while it lasted -
For me - at any rate !

March 31 (2020).

We`re in fair fettle in Wigan
Generally so on the whole
The virus don`t like our puddings and pies
And hates the smell of our coal
It`s out for much bigger prizes
So the newspapers plug
Like Boris, Prince Charles and Paul Chuckle
Who`ve all had a scrape with the bug
People of clout and importance
And celebrities feeling unwell
Daily report and come forward
Each with a story to tell
But we the townsfolk of Wigan
Continue the norm with a grin
Accustomed to struggle and hardship
Keep quiet and take it all in
We`re in fair fettle in Wigan
We`re smiling and towing the line
Our medical care is outstanding
And the buses are running on time
There`s heat and light in our houses
And water to keep us alive
There`s jackbit`s about and there`s plenty
To help us all to survive
We`re rough, ready and funny
And never cry when we bleed
We`ve perseverance and humour
What else can anyone need ?
So we`re well equipped for a tussle
Never to weary or frown
It`ll take much more than a virus
To keep a Wiganer down

March 30 (2020).

It`s day seven of our isolation
And life is sober and slow
The crime rate in Britain`s diminished
To a staggering all time low
Surreal is the scene from my window
Where hushed in the quiet of night
Cats walk the streets in the daytime
And not a soul is in sight
Gone is the hustle and bustle
With it`s restless worries and cares
Along with the busy commotion
In the tide of human affairs
The rest is silence and slumber
With voices that mumble and die
And the rousing stir of an engine
Somewhere close nearby
The British lockdown continues
With a peace hitherto unknown
With quietude all around us
As the nation is grounded at home
The streets are safe and inviting
And empty of fear and alarm
And the atmosphere amongst people
Is strange but friendly and warm
In short the country is settled
And patiently wait to be free
It`s a pity the virus is lurking
This seems like heaven to me.

March 29 (2020).

It`s day six of our isolation
Bring back compassion and love
What have we done do deserve
This reprimand from above
The wise powers of heaven
Look down with anger and scorn
On a world of greed and corruption
Abuse and internet porn
Where goodness and grace is a failing
And all morality`s gone
Where ego, self-glory is rampant
And respect for creation is none
The wise powers of Nature
Have paralized every land
Thwarted the freedom to prosper
And severed the means to expand
Life on earth is suspended
And held for a number of days
While we, the prize of creation
Stop and consider our ways
Man`s been checked and admonished
Belittled and stripped of his fame
His God was commerce and money,
Wealth and material gain
He`s took it all out and left nothing
Without a thought or a care
Killed the earth that we live on
And left it barren and bare
But change is coming and rapid
And the old order will fall
And beyond this tunnel of darkness
There`s a bright new world for us all

March 28 (2020).

It`s day five of our isolation
Is salvation to come ?
It`s like the coming of Christ
And the end of the world
All rolled into one
Mankind is gripped by a fever
Before on this planet unknown
Isolated and wary
In the sanctuary and safety of home
This deadly virus is winning
And rapidly growing in power
Threatening human extinction
As fatalities rise by the hour
Mankind is baffled and helpless
Bewildered and caught in a trance
With nought in the way of prevention
And little to stall it`s advance
Society`s humbled and broken
Crippled and shaken with fright
Trapped in a formidable present
Without a future in sight
The people of earth are in mourning
Just as the prophecy told
When Jesus was quizzed on the future
By his disciples of old
Fear not, let no man deceive you
And neither fret or despair
As sure as joy follows sorrow
All these things must occur
The great tribulation is coming
And every nation will sigh
Have faith and look to the heavens
And know your redemption is nigh.

March 27 (2020).

It`s day four of our isolation
And we all continue the fight
The doctors and nurses of Britain
Were cheered by the nation last night
At last the reality`s clear
Far beyond riches they`re worth
They are our national heroes
And God`s sweet angels on earth
While we sit at home and do nothing
Keeping the virus at bay
They tend to the injured and dying
With passion and duty each day
For them there`s no recognition,
Celebrity, standing or fame
They don`t build a statue for caring
And healing the sick and the lame
Unseen, unheard and unnoticed
With scant financial reward
They`re keeping this country together
With proud and glowing regard
These times are anxious and troubled
And the plague is laying us bare
We`ve only the Lord to rely on
And he has always been there
Unseen, unheard and unnoticed
Ever present - always
The NHS of this country
Is the God in heaven we praise.

March 26 (2020).

It`s day three of isolation
And what a day it is
As the sun ascends in splendour,
Wonderment and bliss
It`s a day to get the bikes out
A day to trek and roam
But the human race is grounded
In solitude at home
We`re all under house arrest
And held to grieve and fast
For crimes against humanity
Committed in the past
Creation`s out of harmony
And Nature`s crossed and sore
She`s suffered violence and abuse
And can`t take any more
We`ve bit the hand that fed us
And poisoned land and sea
With vile contamination
And plastic debris
We`ve willfully ignored her
And flouted all her laws
For the sake of greed and power
In bloody futile wars
We`ve cast aside morality -
Ploughed against the grain
And trashed her guiding instincts
With contemptuous disdain
We`ve pushed her to the limits
And saddled her with woes
She doen`t trust us any more
And keeps us locked indoors
Where she waits and holds us captive
And counts the passing days
Til we as errant children
Repent and mend our ways.

March 23 (2020).

This is not a fire-drill
Or social exercise
This grim, malignant virus
Has caught us by surprise
So we must join arms together
And feel not safe and snug
Lest we in turn fall victim
To this devastating bug
The enemy`s amongst us
And gathers force each day
Spreading apprehension
And death along it`s way
Our history`s steeped in conflict
And seen has been the foe
But this enemy`s invisible
And standing at the door
So we mustn`t be complacent
But act and not think twice
And heed the medics warnings
And government advice
We all must pull together -
Each and every soul
Because who knows tomorrow
For whom the bell will toll.

March 22 (2020).

We played hide and seek today
Me and the wife
I`ve never been so restless
And bored in all my life
It`s day two of isolation
In our little hut
The pubs and cafeteria
In town have all been shut
I`ve got the snakes and ladders out
Quarantine is hard
And the only exercise I get
Is walking round the yard
Outside amongst society
Life is not the same
It`s so relaxed a caring
Coping with the strain
Staying home when possible
And eerily subdued
Walking too and fro in peace
And venturing for food
There is no haste and hassle
And everyone`s O.K.
Waiting calm and patiently
For the bug to go away
It`s a bit like going back in time
Fifty years or so
Before the rat-race started
When life was sweet and slow
Since then the world`s gone manic
And sick from stress and strain
Perhaps the plague is telling us
To pause and think again.

March 21 (2020).

For the first time in our history
To catch the sun`s bright rays
We`re all going to Ourgate
For our Summer holidays
But we musn`t dance too closely
Nor must we kiss and hug
Until the fight is over
And banished is the bug
Ourgate is a little place
Where we can drop our guard
Between our backdoor and a fence
Called a garden or a yard
And there we`ll lounge and potter
For many days to come
Sipping tea and lemonade
Or cider in the sun
The British lockdown`s started
Beginning from today
And all we really need to do
Is sit at home and play
The rat-race is suspended
And now at last we`re free
From working for a living
In strife and misery
It`s a kind of strict enforcement
A gentle prison term
To keep us safe and healthy
And protected from the germ
So we musn`t stray from Ourgate
No further can we go
Except for life`s essentials
From the local store
Everybody`s going there
Exemptions there are none
We`re all in this together
Each and every one
So make the best of Ourgate
And smile come what may
It`s by far the cheapest holiday
In the British Isles today.

March 18 (2020).

They used and abused me
And knocked me to the floor
I felt so cheap and worthless
The lowest of the low
And all too often in the past
Being torn and rent
I`ve suffered from indignity
And treated with contempt
But never did I remonstrate
Or gripe against the strain
I took it all in silence
And never did complain
I knew that I was special
Vulnerable yet strong
Unique, indispensable
And worthy all along
I knew one day they`d realize
After being so unkind
The priceless contribution
I`ve made to all mankind
And now at last I`m recognised
My glory is unfurled
They`ve put me on a pedestal
In view of all the world
No more the common skivvy
Of duty to fulfil
Crumpled in displeasure
And cast aside at will
I`m king of the household
And the essence of it`s soul
Bathed in light and splendour -
I am a toilet roll !

March 16 (2020).

Calling all physicians
And medics of the land
We`re desperate for an antidote
This plague is out of hand
This fearsome epidemic
Daily takes it`s toll
We have no cure or remedy
And out of toilet roll
The tissue has been pillaged
In frenzies of despair
In shops , supermarkets
And outlets everywhere
As the noxious germ gets bolder
Infecting flesh and blood
And we need a magic potion
To nip it in the bud
Our lives have changed for ever
In a way we`ve never known
Locked in fearful quarantine
And impotence at home
We`re under siege and monitor
And indoors wait and hide
From an enemy, invisible
That rules the streets outside
' Out vile contagion '
We need to hear you say
As we languish in uncertainty
And anxiety each day
We need your brains and knowledge
And skill that you endow
To safe us from catastrophe
More than ever now
We`re heading for perdition
And a horrifying fate
According to the media
At home at any rate

March 16 (2020).

I thought it was a boring life
Not too long ago
Until this bug invaded us
And caused this great furore
No sport or social gatherings
Will keep us all indoors
But for essential shopping trips
To and from the stores
And that is just for starters
Until the germs dispel
Pubs, clubs, bingo halls
And schools will close as well
What a mean palaver
We`re trapped and horrified
But such is the infection rate
And many souls have died
Spring is round the corner
And we`ve hardly seen the sun
But it`s going to be a boring life
For many weeks to come
Summer`s been suspended
In a country overawed
And all forms of travel
To and from abroad
There`s little to look forward to
In the days ahead
And that`s the way it`s going to stay
Until the bug is dead
So we must stay strong and vigilant
Until the war is won
But it`s going to be a boring life
Until the job is done.

March 16 (2020).

There`s not much in the news today
Of worth to think about
It`s all coronavirus
The press are dishing out
The world has changed from yesterday
Once bustling to and fro
Mankind is seized and static
And wanders free no more
Society is hesitant
Cautious and subdued
Stocking up with medicines
Toilet rolls and food
The apocalypse is coming
So the papers say
And the consequential fall of man
Isn`t far away
It`s a grim and strange scenario
Repeated far and wide
Across this globe of excellence
Of nations side by side
Nations of uncertainty
Built by war and strife
Each huddled close together
In fear of it`s life
The world has come together
As it never did before
More concerned with other things
Than conflict and woe
Our enemy is common
To each and every one
And we all must pull together
Until the plague is gone.

March 15 (2020).

Austerity killed ten thousand -
Corona`s killed a few
Let`s never underestimate
What politics can do
The nation wasn`t flapping
When Cameron pulled the plug
But now there`s mass hysteria
And panic with a bug
Suffering is selective
When it comes to wealth
And a man don`t bat an eye-lid
If it don`t affect himself
It`s a sad and sorry spectacle
The way we operate
As human beings on this earth
Obsessed with our own fate
We`re quick put the blinkers on
Where money is concerned
But threatened with infection
Our world is overturned
This germ is an example
Which magnifies this shame -
It`s a case of ' I'm all right Jack '
And it`s always been the same.

March 14 (2020).

I feel so sad for Liverpool
The FA`s pulled the plug
Denying them the championship
Because of the latest bug
Their season of high splendour
And most impressive clout
Is wiped out in a moment
And doesn`t count for nowt
What a cruel injustice
And devastation blow
To a legendary outfit
With a few more games to go
Allah has deserted them
The first time in a year
He must have popped down from the Kop
To get a glass of beer
What a shame and tragedy
For the fans and all concerned
To have their celebrated run
And crowning glory spurned
Praise be to Allah
It wasn`t meant to be
But worse things do happen
Upon the rolling sea.

March 14 (2020).

The germ coronavirus
Today infects again
But most recover from it -
Nine out of ten
So what`s this great commotion
About this grim disease
Described by many sufferers
As just a cough and sneeze
The world is full of missiles
Equipped with force untold
Ten million times more deadly
Than flu or common cold
And yet be buckle to it
With cowardice unknown
In feeble isolation
In the sanctuary of home
We`ve given up too easily
And let the virus win
Instead of putting up a fight
With courage chin to chin
This strain is laughing at us
And the country`s at a loss
It`s time to make a stand and fight
And show the bug who`s boss !

March 14 (2020).

Poor Harry Sussex
Isn`t in good health
His eyes are dark and distant
And he`s a shadow of himself
Once the royal joker
Smiling, debonaire
Is downcast in uncertainty
And lost to worldly care
Once he was clean-shaven
Bright-eyed and alert
Till he lost his loving family
To a yankee piece of skirt
Who came, saw and conquered
With manipulating guile,
Sweet innocence of cunning
And witchcraft in her smile
And now he`s solemn serious
Sitting in her palm
Bereft of regal excellence
At the mercy of her charm
What will become of Harry
What happened to the glow
Of the funny and mischievous Prince
We used to loved and know
A female`s led him onward
To dissociate his past -
He won`t be the first
And he won`t be the last !

March 13 (2020).

I think I`ll risk the virus
And take a morning stroll
I think I should be safe enough
I`ll take a toilet roll
One with depth and quality
Delsey is the brand
The fiercest bug repellant
And gentlest in the land
It`s smooth, soft and pliant
And has a pleasant breath
And as the germs approaches
It smothers them to death
It lulls them by hypnosis
With a fragrance sweet and rare
Then leaves the virus gasping
And battling for air
No need for drugs and vaccines
Gel, gloves or a mask
A simple common toilet roll
Is ample for the task
Wear it as a neck scarf
Or wrap it round the chest
Or carry it around unwrapped
Which ever way is best
Think cheap, think safe, think healthy
And if you need a stroll
Stride out with faith and confidence
And wear a toilet roll !

March 13 (2020).

I stay because I love you
I`m not a fan of life
It`s far too complicated
And full of mortal strife
It`s beautiful yet evil
In many, many ways
And it`s goodness is the reason
I do extend my days
I stay because I love you
I`d rather say goodbye
But my faithful heart won`t let me
For I hate to see you cry
For me there is no option
You have my soul and trust
I`d rather die in ecstasy
But living is a must
I stay because I love you
Not a granule more
You are my whip of purpose
And reason why I grow
You are my dawn and sunrise
And beacon of my day
And without your form and presence
I`d rather fade away.

March 13 (2020).

We must embrace reality
And face it with a sigh
We`ve loitered long enough on earth
And soon we all must die
One by one and slowly
Like the dinosaur and sphynx
Human life we know on earth
Will soon become extinct
This rampant deadly virus
Now spreads from town to town
Ring a ring of roses
We all fall down
It`s all too late for toilet rolls
Quarantine and gel
The plague is in full throttle
And sombre rings the knell
But look upon the bright side
And smile before we go
There`ll be no war and suffering
To blight the life we know
No devil booze and homeless
No coke or crystal meths
Or poll tax and Love Island
To bore us all to death
And best of all the prospect
Of sweet, immortal fame
For having ceased to be at last
We`ll never die again.

March 12 (2020).

The sun is shining down at last
Upon my little house
Making life more bearable
For me and my spouse
I`m partial to the sunlight
It illuminates and strobes
The dim-lit alleyways of thought
Behind the frontal lobes
It`s akin to a light bulb
Switched on in a room
Clarifying all we see
And banishing the gloom
Lovely, precious sunshine
Please stay out a while
Perk my weary senses
And teach me how to smile
Its been a long dark Winter
And my soul is glum and low
I`ve missed your bright, new cheery face
And the days pass painful slow
You`ve been a long time showing
Please don`t leave just yet
You are a welcome visitor
A treasure and a pet
I know you`re in a hurry
But stay around some more
You look so warm and wonderful
Shining through my door
I`ve never seen my windows
Sparkling so bright
What a great companion
Full of joy and light
The universe is infinite
But can you spare the time
If only for a day or so
And let me watch you shine
I don`t expect too much of you
And you know where I`m at
So stay around till dinnertime
If you can manage that.

March 12 (2020).

Markle is furious
And the queen has had a fit
And everyone is laughing
Because Harry is a twit
He gave his private number
And email address
To a pair of Russian pranksters
Causing great distress
He spoke to Greta Thunberg
With candour, so it seems
In passing conversation
And spilled a load of beans
But Greta wasn`t listening
The ruse was all a con
And all the world was listening
To hear him ramble on
Poor haughty Harry
He thinks he`s something rare
The dashing Prince of folly
And clown with ginger hair
He grew up in a palace
And lived a sheltered life
And opted for a pretty face
And actress for a wife
He`s lacking wit and gumption -
What we would call a pratt
And he must be lonely and confused
To fall for a thing like that.

March 12 (2020).

My kingdom for a bog roll
The nation doth implore
At the local supermarkets
In Britain shore to shore
The soft, humble bog roll
Is worth it`s weight in gold
And many million pallet loads
Up to now have sold
A product once so common
Unvalued and mundane
Is at the forefront of a war
This evil to contain
And now coronavirus
Is sweeping far and wide
This scented, precious fabric
Is about to turn the tide
The mills are rolling feverishly
Up and down the land
With overtime and bonuses
To satisfy demand
We`ll fight it on the beaches
On land, sea and air
Armed with a toilet roll
We`ll fight it everywhere
We will not be vanquished
Or surrender in dismay
The good old British bog roll
And faith will win the day !

March 11 (2020).

Madonna`s on the road again
She`s running out of brass
To fund her lavish lifestyle
So she won`t eat grass
Her joints are stiff and painful
Troublesome and sore
So much she had to cancel
Her bold, erotic show
The same goes for Elton
An ageing crock indeed
He`s struggling with his vocals
And has three mouths to feed
And then there`s old Phil Collins
No longer young and slick
He`s out to make a comeback
With his friend - a walking stick
Such is fame`s addiction
And years spent at the top
They crave for audience so much
They labour till they drop
For them there`s no retirement
Reprieve and ease of bone
In final blissful settlement
With family and home
They`re hooked on vain approval
That age will never mend
Such thirsting for the buzz of fame
And glory has no end.

March 11 (2020).

Glory once was local
In tenements and blocks
In the heart of our communities
In little crowd and flocks
But now it`s on the telly
Dressed and out for show
Depriving our society
Of the shine we used to know
Society`s impoverished
In these modern times
It`s like a careless actor
Who`s forgotten all his lines
The heart is taken from it
And it`s soul`s in disarray
Struggling through the motions
Of living day to day
It`s all on the telly
Ever and always
We have no entertainment
Outside our doors these days
We`ve lost our real-time glory
To a box of coloured light
Sitting in the corner
Blinking day and night
We`ve been bewitched and nullified
And tamely lost our roles
The devil in the corner
Has took away our souls.

March 11 (2020).

Sour-faced Greta Thunberg
Is a face you won`t forget
It`s a mask of spite and envy
And she wears it for a bet
Don`t let the pigtails fool you
Nor her innocent display
Poison comes in bottles
Small and brown they say
This celebrated activist
With influential ties
Comes all the way from Sweden
With evil in her eyes
She `s here to spread the gospel
With venom, guilt and fear
To save the world from climate change
To everybody here
This sulky elf of malice
Looks twisted and unfazed
Threatening all before her
With a mean and troubled gaze
She strives to saves the human race
From it`s consequential fate
But little does she really know
She`s a hundred years too late
So my advice to Greta is
Be not so grim and vile
Sit back, enjoy, be happy
And give the world a smile.

March 10 (2020).

The Gypsy King is a wonder
No brute of a boxer is he
But an inspirational fighter
Sensitive, honest and free
One cannot help but to like him
And be taken in by his charm
He`s everybody`s good neighbour
Down to earth, witty and warm
He doesn`t look like an athlete
With muscle as solid as stone
But he has the power to deliver
And he`s in a class of his own
He bears not the malice and menace
Of a heavyweight fearsome and cold
But a rather inept entertainer
Adventurous, cocky and bold
But Tyson is deft and elusive
And quick to wiggle and bob
He fights with purpose and valour
And just gets on with the job
He`s a fighter first then a boxer
Bubbling with passion and heart
Haunted by fear of his demons
But exceedingly good at his art.

March 10 (2020).

I think I will self-isolate
Tomorrow after tea
There's a certain relative of mine
I just don't want to see
She grinds my nerves in tatters
When she makes a call
She's aloof and condescending
And thinks she knows it all
Let me have the virus
It's a preference I'd make
The sweating and convulsions
Would be a piece of cake
Than sitting trapped and seething
Smiling in disdain
With serious mental conflict
And murder on my brain
I try to make excuses
When ever she is near
To sneak off on an errand
Abscond and disappear
But ever I'm the loser
For wit and guile I lack
She's always there and piping on
Whenever I get back
So this virus is a godsend
For peace of mind I pray
It's the best excuse I've ever had
To keep her out the way.

March 9 (2020).

The country is in lockdown
Anxiety is rife
I've never seen such cowardice
Before in all my life
They're stocking up on toilet rolls
And sanitizing gel
And washing hands religiously
Till they like detol smell
The plague is now amongst us
Lurking in the air
Spreading mass hysteria
And panic everywhere
The churches are in business
And the priest stands by the door
Welcoming new customers
And some who've been before
Society is crumbling
And fear is on the rise
As the fabric of our nation cracks
Before our very eyes
There's too much information
With trouble and dismay
Everywhere around us
In this world today
These viruses will come and go
Like they always do
Sometimes it's corona
And other times it's flu.

March 8 (2020).

We all must meet our maker
One day not too soon
But it could be sooner than we think
With this coronavirus boom
The British Isles is panicking
And trembling with dread
Waiting for the bell to toll
And bring out the dead
Gloves and masks are selling fast
With antiseptic gel
And the shops are running out of food
At the tolling of the bell
By heck it's all dramatic
And most alarming too
For this virus is more dangerous
Than the common cold or flu
It is the great pandemic
Of devastating clout
Here to traumatize the world
And come to thin us out
Who can escape it
And save his mortal soul ?
Only time will single out
For whom the bell will toll
And if it's me I've one request
If ever I should die -
Don't send me off without my teeth
When I bid the world goodbye.

March 6 (2020).

Poor Mike Tyson is crying
Sorrowful, humble and sore
He's lost all his power to nature
And he can't be a brute anymore
Father time has subdued him
And left him grieving and sad
Mourning the days of his glory
And the mighty aggression he had
Gone is the means for destruction
That made him ruthless and cold
And now he's just an old-timer
And a has-been relic of old
He's down to his paltry last million
From a fortune healthy and fat
And now he's a cannabis grower
And not too happy with that
Poor Mike Tyson is crying
He's spent-up, down and he's out
Enduring the pain of misfortune
In a life of diminishing clout
The years have quelled all his anger
And time passes weary and slow
But if he thinks Father Time has been cruel
He still has a long way to go

March 4 (2020).

Come and join the army
Ye young men of the land
It's a truly great experience
And the army life is grand
There's so much to see and do
And the discipline is great
For a boy with few credentials
And not much on his plate
Come fight for queen and country -
Step forth and be a man
To earn respect and honour
And a medal if you can
This glorious nation needs you
To reinforce and guard
It's monetary interests
And businesses abroad
It needs your youth and energy
To furthermore it's cause
With sacrificial bravery
In skirmishes and wars
And when your stint is over
And you bid the ranks goodbye
The government won't give a damn
If you live or die.

March 3 (2020).

Pope Francis isn't going to die -
He's free to kiss and hug
The Lord has spared his holiness
From the caronavirus bug
All's good within the holy walls
And God's alive and strong
With Francis and his pope mobile
To carry him along
Long live the pontiff
And all his worldly worth
God's sacred representative
Of all things good on earth
He lives to bless and sanctify
In the grand old scheme and plan
And bolster faith and confidence
In the souls of mortal man
He's a figurehead and father
A firm and moral rock
A worldly guide and leader
And shepherd of his flock
And now he's much recovered
He can carry on the task
To save the world from mortal sin
But he'll have to wear a mask !

March 1 (2020).

To be or not to be
Said the Gypsy King
Life can be unbearable
And a dark and lonely thing
As he aimed towards the overpass
And revved up the power
Fast enough to leave the ground
At a hundred miles an hour
Then he thought about his wife at home
His caring mum and dad -
The good things around him
And the children that he had
He though about that sleep of death
Aye there's the rub
And all the good times singing
Down at the local pub
Then trembling with terror
He quit his ride of shame
And sought the help he needed
To get back well again
What a gripping story
And a most traumatic tale
Of pride and human weakness
Where guts and strength prevail
It's a story so familiar
Of pressure and it's signs
That challenges the human mind
In these modern times
Hence Tyson beat his demons
With courageousness unfurled
Ad fought his way to sanity
And champion of the world
So now he's happy back at home
Relaxing in his way
Taking rubbish to the tip
Back in Morecambe Bay
Where I hope he now retires
But hopelessly I sigh -
He's such a lovely northern boy
And much too young to die

February 26 (2020).

Fake news, fake breasts, fake people
And now we have fake life
Love island on the telly
Where fake behaviour's rife
We're following America
Like we always do
Misguided from reality
And everything that's true
Bring back Ena Sharples
And all that she was worth
And show us something interesting
Real and down to earth
Bring back Hilda Hogden
One of Corrie's greats
And show us what true drama is
With Stan and Eddie Yates
These icons of transmission
With scripts from first to last
Were tangible and lovable
From telly's humble past
They sunk into our psyche
More than just a show
With tears and happy laughter
Expressing all we know
They made us think and wonder
Sympathize and feel
And pinged on our emotions
With raw and touching zeal
But now the stuff of legends
Of drama have all gone
And all that's left is shallowness.
And fake life to ponder on.

February 26 (2020).

Thomas Markle's furious -
At least he acts that way
Frowning on his angel child
Who dumped him in this way
She's dumped her loving parents
And the royal family too
And she did it all for Harry
To build a life anew
He's bitter and resentful
Or so he's seems to be
And shamed of her behavior
Towards our Monarchy
This precious little princess
Has kicked her dad in touch
She thinks he is embarrassing,
Fat and drinks too much
So home-alone in Mexico
He sits alone and cries
In the hope he'll see his grandson
Just once before he dies
He's tearful and forsaken
Or so his visage shows
But what he's thinking underneath
No one really knows
At last he's truly famous
Though ageing and unfit
He's the centre of attraction
And loving every bit.

February 24 (2020).

Redbush isn't happy
His back's against the wall -
Liz has put her foot down
And he likes it not at all
She's took his HRH away
And seal of high acclaim -
His passport to riches
And royal claim to fame
And so he festers spitefully
In a mansion far away
With scheming Markle by his side
In doleful disarray
He's angry with his grandma
Our gracious, noble queen
For thwarting his ambitions
And shattering his dream.
Which makes him brooding furious
And apt to dig and snipe
And war with our great majesty
When the time is ripe
And he hath the means to do it
For he's a fighting man -
He used to be a soldier
In Afghanistan
But he best be wise and careful
This enemy's unseen
And he'll find out what he's up against
If he tangles with our queen.

February 24 (2020).

Tyson Fury's mental
You can see it in his eyes
When he tried to nibble Wilder's neck
To the camera's great surprise
He has no hair or muscle -
He's mainly mouth and flab
But he is the greatest heavyweight
This country's ever had
The Gypsy King from Wythenshaw
The mighty comeback kid
Vowed he'd take the title
And bravely so he did
He banished all his demons
Depression, coke and booze
And with Jesus Christ behind him
He knew he couldn't lose
So now it's time to party
And reap the spoils of war
With a bit of karaoke
And fortnight at the bar
He's a fascinating character
Who panders to the crowd -
He's affably unstable
But he's done his country proud
So I wish him future happiness
And the joy that wealth can bring
And hope he grows old gracefully
In a life outside the ring
But this gypsy is a boxer
And a boxer battles on
Until he has no brains left
And all his money's gone.

February 24 (2020).

Rats, bats , snakes and cats
Are what the Chinese eat
And rare exotic animals
And pass them off as meat
In fact they'll eat most anything
That flies, flaps and crawls
All over the republic
And it's dense human sprawls
What a savage lots they are
Unlike me and you
To catch a rat and kill it
And put it in a stew
Or fry a bat for breakfast
And dip it in some rice
Don't sound appetizingly
Savory and nice
And now coronavirus
The culprit and the cause
Is spreading out across the globe
As did AIDS and SARS
But still they keep on feasting
And chomping with delight
All over China
Every day and night.

February 22 (2020).

We had a Labour Party once
In the good old British isles
Full of noble policy,
Harmony and smiles
Who battled for the common folk
Of little clout and wealth
To ratify their basic needs
Of security and health
It sprang from pain and misery
With a futuristic plan
To fight grim inequality
And support the working man
It triumphed for a hundred years
To furthermore his cause
Through times of great depression
Anarchy and wars
And all the while it grew and grew
And strengthened in it's course
Throughout the generations
Into a mighty force
A magnate for the people
Healthy, strong and sure
It bloomed with pride and honour
As a champion of the poor
And then one day not long ago
Corbyn came to town
With his loony band of followers
And brought it crashing down.

February 21 (2020).

Storm Norman sways uneasily
And lingers shore to shore
With glut precipitations
Upon the earth below
And still the rain persisteth
From banks of rolling grey
I'm fain to live upon a mount
To watch it drain away
But South Wales and Worcester
Are going through the mill
Submerging in the rising flood
At the bottom of the hill
Foul weather and catastrophe
And fire in burning climes -
We all must count our blessings
In these frantic, troubled times
For the Gods are raging zealous
Their eyes are all aglare
We've rattled and forsaken them
And pulled the plug on prayer
We cut communication
With scant regard or grace
And the elements are rebelling
To put us in our place
We're out of clique and favour
With our deities, divine
Who stir disharmony and strife
In Nature as a sign
But I'm a touch romantic
And my thoughts have busy wings -
My brain is wild and seething
And I thinks all kinds of things
I'm also only human,
Ignoble and mundane
And I'm always working overtime
To find something to blame.

February 19 (2020).

Miss Flack's departed from us
Was she weak or strong
She chose to end her agony -
Was she right or wrong
The question is an old one
That plagues the human race
Was the action brave and noble
Or the ultimate disgrace
The matter is a complex one
And flimsy is the thread
What soul on earth has never cried
'I wish that I was dead'
We all have a death wish
Deep within the brain
No one is responsible
And no one is to blame
Life is a lottery
Of suffering great and small
Some are blessed and fortunate
While others have it all
But Nature is compassionate
And when troubles don't abate -
She gives us leave to end it
If the pressure is too great.

February 18 (2020).

The Prince of Darkness isn't well
He's got this rare disease
Which makes him feel unsteady
And tremble at the knees
But good old Ozzy Osbourne -
A wreck of a guy
Is struggling for survival
But won't lay down and die
He's touring North America
And then he'll come to us
But that will be a miracle
If he ever does
John Michael Osbourne -
A toolmaker's son
Is a character and showman
From Aston, Birmingham
Who formed the group Black Sabbath
A heavy metal band
And quickly rose to lasting fame
At home in England
He now lives in a mansion
And lives a life of ease
Over in America
In Los Angeles
But It seems he's running short of cash
And though his health is poor
He'd love to see us all again -
Hence the present tour
So will our Ozzy make it
And render us his voice ?
He is the Prince of Darkness
And he don't have any choice !

February 17 (2020).

Kate is having a baby
And reaches a staggering four
And Elton died at a concert -
He couldn't sing any more
Trust our national papers
To spread such stories and tales
Of a frightening global pandemic
And severe flooding in Wales
They probe and harass with mischief
With methods brutal and raw
Defunct of the slightest emotion
Like villains in league with the law
But like it, loathe it - we need it
To tell us what's going on
But it's strange that all the news of the day
Fits neatly into each one
But how do they keep it all coming
And how does this business prevail
Filling the tabloids and broadsheets
Day after day without fail
It’s because they understand people
And when it comes to the sting
We humans by Nature are nosey
And will read almost anything.

February 16 (2020).

Storm Dennis and Caroline Flack
Fill the papers today
The former rages amongst us
And the other is taken away
The rain is unceasing and steady
And the sky is ominous dark
Enter a sullen tempest of gloom
And exit a beautiful spark
Life's either one or the other -
Brightly-coloured or grey
Full of extremes of emotion -
A storm or a beautiful day
And with the weather we tarry
Uneasy, uncertain and glum
Praying for brightness and sunshine
And dreading the showers to come
We're guided and ruled by the weather
Like the tides that govern the sea
Clouds keep us imprisoned
And sunshine sets us all free
We live and die by the weather
Whether it's foul or fair
It can raise our spirits to heaven
Or sink our souls in despair
Now storm Dennis is waning
He's done some damage it's true
And Caroline's an example
Of what stormy weather can do.

February 15 (2020).

Tipsy Rod Stewart's in trouble
The sixties, chicken-faced star
Threw a punch at a doorman
And violated the law
It's alleged he made a Nazi salute
And with his finger and nose
Created a moustache of evil
Whilst strutting forth on his toes
The doorman was only doing his job
When Rod and his lad paid a call
Denying the revellers entry
Which caused a commotion and brawl
It seems old Rod was offended
And humbled in front of his son
Which made him seething outrageous
And frantically reach for his gun
All in the heat of the moment
Rodney was charged with assault
And to salvage his good reputation
Insisted it wasn't his fault
So back and forth sways the drama
In court to diminish the shame
Each party condemning the other
And neither taking the blame
So we'll have to see what transpires
If Rod or the doorman was right
But we all know the ultimate culprit -
Booze caused the trouble that night !

February 13 (2020).

Nutty Prince Phillip is fading away
His days are numbered and few
I feel so sorry for Lizzy
What on earth will she do
When her nearest and dearest admirer
Soul-mate, husband and friend
Whose life of unflinching devotion
Sadly comes to an end
He's been her clown and court-jester
Through ages of trouble and strife
Her comforter, rock and supporter
And the one great love of her life
I feel so sorry for lizzy
What will become of her heart
And how will she cope at the palace
If Phillip should ever depart
He's been a rampart and pillar
For our noble monarch to lean
To keep this kingdom together
As a wife and dutiful queen
I feel so sorry for Lizzy -
Her woes have been many and long
But over the years Phillip's been there
To keep her smiling and strong
They've spent a lifetime together
Now she faces the loneliest day
As mother and queen of our nation
When Phillip passes away.

February 9 (2020).

Missus Schofield is shattered
Hurt and ready to cry
Her life has all been for nothing
And it's all been a terrible lie
Phillip cajoled and deceived her
To build him a home and a life
So he could be settled and happy
And boast of a family and wife
But all along he was kidding -
Using her as it were
To further his mortal ambition
And spread his name everywhere
And now he's glowingly famous
And all his suck-holing is done
He tells his poor missus it's over
And living with her wasn't fun
In fact he confesses on telly
His wife was lousy in bed
And all of his life he has lusted
For a male as a partner instead
For poor missus Schofield it's tragic -
Her life has not gone to plan
But Phil is excited and happy
And out to find him a man.

February 8 (2020).

Me and my feelings Schofield
Is in the papers today
He wants everyone on the planet
To be happy to know that he's gay
Each one he tells makes him lighter
And now he's floating on high
Absolutely weightless and free
Aloof with his head in the sky
Me and my feelings Schofield
Couldn't cope with the strain
Of anyone taking no notice
And he couldn't handle the pain
He hurt his wife and his family
Insisting time alone heals
For nothing else really matters
Apart from the way that he feels
Me and my feeling Schofield
Should be ashamed of himself
He's everything life has to offer
Money, material and wealth
A family who love and adore him
And fans all over the shore
But he still felt something lacking
And wanted the nation to know
He's got it all - fame, recognition
And all that shines and appeals
And now he wants something different
To help the way that he feels

February 7 (2020).

There's none more brave than Phillip
Who on the box today
Told the population
That he is old and gay
He's out of the closet
Where he was trapped and torn
In thirty years of marriage
With a wife and kids at home
How noble and inspiring
To quit his manly ties
And pour his little heart out
With teardrops in his eyes
On morning television
For all the world to see
He needed to unburden
And set his conscience free
This cheeky chap with no top lip
Needed audience
And warm, pretentious sympathy
To bolster his defence
For poor old Phillip Schofield
His soul was in distress
Burdened and tormented
His life was in a mess
But now at last he's happy
To do what he deems fit
But why tell anyone at all ?
Just get on with it !

February 7 (2020).

It's not too bad this growing old
Once it's dinnertime
When the morning dumps are over
And the sun begins to shine
It's just like being young again
But happier and wise
With creeping arthritis
And failing misty eyes
It's not too bad this slow decline
Into vague forgetfulness
Remembering just the basics -
One's name and home address
The stuff which used to bother me
Like pride and standing tall
Ego, sex and vanity
Matters not at all
Away with silly nonsense
Excess and vain delight
And enter what's important,
Sensible and right
Life is just a happening -
A long, eventful dream
Full of strange endeavour
And struggle for esteem
I've been there, had it, done it
And had so much to learn -
It's a case of where I'm going
That's my main concern.

February 6 (2020).

Who killed Stuart Lubbock
Was it Barrymore ?
Or one of eight souls present
Two or even more -
Blood on the patio
And a towel by the pool
Don't come from a heart attack
Or drowning as a rule
Someone must know something
The scene speaks for itself
For one thing is for certain
He didn't kill himself
His father yearns for justice
The truth and nothing more
Of this gruesome misadventure
Twenty years ago
There's husbandry in heaven
Their candles are all out
And the world needs to know at last
What this is all about
Who killed Stuart Lubbock
Where, when and why
What were the circumstances
And how did he die
These questions must have answers
His injuries so great
Are proof he suffered from foul play
Before he met his fate
A lie can't live for ever
And time will be his friend
And the truth about this mystery
Must triumph in the end.

February 6 (2020).

Kirk Douglas died today -
Boy did he hang on
Now Odin and Spartacus
Have both for ever gone
And gone is his trademark
The wild and steely grin
The piercing smile of menace
And the dimple on his chin
His name was Izzy Demsky
The son of a Jew
Who fled the Russian pogroms
To start a life anew
He scared me in the Vikings -
He only had one eye -
An eagle plucked it from his skull
But I can't remember why
And when he fell in battle
At the end of his days
They put him in a long boat
And set it all ablaze
He came across as reckless
A man of great excess
For the lust of drink and women
And wayward mindedness
But he really didn't drink at all
And loved the wife he got
And he lived to be a hundred
And that says a lot.

February 5 (2020).

What's it all about ?
Alfie please tell me
I've been looking for the answer
Since nineteen fifty three
But I'm still none the wiser
The older that I grow
It seems the truth I'm searching for
I'm never going to know
Is it for the moment
We live and then we die
Without ever knowing
The earthly reason why ?
Or is this a preparation
And when this phase is done
We move to higher forms of life
And better things to come
It's all so bewildering
And challenges the mind
We really don't know anything
And all of us are blind
But one thing is for certain
And this I truly know
I better put the rubbish out
Before the binmen go.

February 4 (2020).

There's not much happening today
Except this Jihad stuff -
Young men in praise of God above
Daring, brave and tough
Who pounce on our good citizens
Displaying Allah's might
And butcher them at random
In a frenzy of delight
Yelling allahu akbar
With menacing furore
In a crazed religious ecstacy
Slashing as they go
But only the defenceless
Are they willing to attack -
The fit and strong they leave alone
In case they battle back
What a shameful liberty
To treat us in this way
We give them homes and benefits
And bid them pleasant stay
We welcome them amongst us
As equals fond and fair
And treat them in our hospitals
With tender, loving care
All free and unrestricted
We cater for them good
And that's how they pay us back
With Holy war and blood
We're much too kind and tolerant
In this land today
I'd send packing off back home
If I had my way !

February 3 (2020).

Al Pacino's growing old -
His end is on the cards
He tripped on the carpet
At the BAFTA awards
He still thinks he's Scarface
But that was long ago
He should have took his zimmer
And shuffled nice and slow
Will and Kate were present too
As happy as can be -
A proper Prince and Princess
For all the world to see
It was just another BAFTA
A tedious display
Of glamour and fine feathers
And Gods of the day
All smiling and adorable
Chewing on the cud
Sipping wine and bubbly
And pretending to be good
All gifted and immaculate
Good-looking, kind and sweet
They are the cream and sparkle
Of the Hollywood elite
And yet to me they are a clan -
A vain, deluded mob
Who, but for television
Wouldn't have a job.

February 2 (2020).

Andrew you can do it -
Confess it - go ahead
It's only six months prison -
You can do it on your head
And just think how much happier
You at last will be
Paid in full for mischief done
For all eternity
Royalty is nothing
It's just a dress for show
An act to please humanity -
A play and nothing more
Beneath that fine exterior
Bred and born by chance
You've languished in a prison
Of pomp and circumstance
You can do it Andrew
Step forth and be a man
Your life has been monotonous
And nothing but a sham
Break free from idle monarchy
And turn another page
But next time you desire a fling
Be sure to ask her age !

February 1 (2020).

It's a lovely February day
And the sun is shining down
Upon us British people
And good old Wigan town
It's a day of liberation
Fresh, bright and new
And a special time in history
For the likes of me and you
They wouldn't listen to us
Year after year
Dismissing our concerns and woe
With a deaf ear
They blanked us off completely
Ignoring our unrest
All along they bullied us
And knew what was best
They pushed the common people
And leaders of this land
With unrelenting dominance
And arrogant command
They wouldn't hark our voices
And didn't give two hoots
Growing ever powerful
And too big for their boots
But now they're sad and sorry
By Britain brought to book -
They even saw it coming
And didn't want to look
The EU is finished -
It's force is in decline
Brought low by haughty ignorance
And the whirlygig of time
The signs were there and waiting
For this great day to come
And now we British citizens
With pride must soldier on.

January 31 (2020).

We've had some great leaders in Britain -
Churchill, Thatcher and co
But none is as great as Nigel Farage
For showing Brussels the door
Like a freak Nigel was hounded
And belittled from Belgium to Stoke
They called him slimy and frog-eyed
And labelled him as a joke
But Nigel was a true Briton
Driven, devoted and brave
He fought like a lion in Europe
Our sovereign country to save
But still they laughed and derided
And scolded his futile intent
By the telly and national papers
And everywhere that he went
They saw him coming and sniggered
And treated him like a goon
Trashing his views and his image
At any time opportune
But Nigel wouldn't be vanquished
Dissuaded, beat or curtailed
And it wasn't for vain recognition
But for love of his country he railed
They laughed at him all over Europe
But he persevered somehow
Now they're all glum and despondent
And he's the one laughing right now.

January 31 (2020).

At last Brexit is here
Democracy's triumphed at last
It's time for us all come together
And embrace this break from the past
It started with noble intentions -
A common market for all
A club and friendship of nations
No matter how big or small
But it turned into something much bigger
A plot to control - undermine
With undemocratic procedure
And secret ambitious design
It developed into a monster
That made us tremble and quake
Devouring our sovereign country and past
To create a new-order state
But we rose against it in battle
To salvage the land that we know
Preserved by the blood of our fathers
In wars not long ago
We fought to continue as Britain -
A land pleasant and green
With our ancient and great constitution
And proud of our country and Queen.

January 30 (2020).

Now Errol was just a statistic
He had no incentive or wealth
He was backward and slow coming forward
And couldn't stand up for himself
For him existence was brutal
And life was too big a task
He perished alone of starvation
With no electric or gas
A man in his live-alone fifties
Of Afro-Jamaican decent -
They found him depleted and withered
When he fell behind with his rent.
Errol was born on the fringes
Of the sill between heaven and hell
In a world of divisive ambition
And destined not to do well
In a country thriving in commerce
Where fortune and plenty abound
There's not enough hope for the have-nots
And not enough greed to go round
And Errol was one in a thousand
Living on bread and despair
Who slip through the net of the system
Each day in this nation somewhere
So goodbye to you Errol Graham
You're free of this turmoil and strife
And I hope some day in the future
You'll find a much better life.

January 29 (2020).

The Ticks are blazing ecstatic
At home they triumphed at last
They hit the winner against Sheffield
And scored it at the last gasp
They've had a terrible season
And suffered flop after flop
Now they're a point from the bottom
And on the rise to the top
What a difference a goal makes
To be headed, booted or tossed
To turn it all round in a minute
When all seemed futile and lost
The town is stunned and uplifted
Jumping for joy and delight
And the fans are having a party
And celebrating all night
It's better than being the champions
Promoted or winning the cup
In this desperate plight for survival
And the battle just to stay up.

January 29 (2020).

Prince Andrew is in a right pickle
And the royal family is hurt
His kingdom is falling to pieces
For the sake of a bit of young skirt
He's had his kisses and cuddles
With an underage temptress way back
Like a honey bee searching for nectar
He was lonely and fell in the trap
He thought it was something and nothing
To relish the moments divine
Of the secret, exciting adventure
Of a great idea at the time
But now the vultures are waiting -
The FBI and the press -
He's trapped like a fox in the hedgerow
Besieged by worry and stress
He knows what it's like to be hounded
And try to escape if he can
Alone and hemmed in a corner
At the humbling mercy of man
Like a child oppressed and uneasy
Stung by regret and dismay
He clings to his mother for comfort
And prays it all goes away
But judgement day is approaching
And now his heartache begins
For whether a prince or a pauper
We all must pay for our sins.

January 22 (2020).

A bloke stood in a corner -
He used to be a Prince
But he doesn't have a lot to say
And words he cannot mince
His wife is chatting merrily
Engaging all in view
With smiles of piercing wonder
To a charismatic few...
Harry fidgets on his glass
With his ginger head bowed low
Reflecting on the royal life
He knew a year ago
When, steeped in adoration
He stood a mountain high
As the cheering crowds of worshippers
Of Britain waved him by
He doesn't have a lot to say
But much to dwell upon -
The Crown's another world away
And his majesty is gone
Gone's the blaze of colour
And the pride and pomp and state
He's a bloke stood in a corner
And it doesn't feel too great.

January 22 (2020).

Now Harry's gone for ever
And gone to chase his dream
Where the sun shines brighter
And where the grass is green
He's done with royal duties
But wouldn't mind a few
To help bring home the bacon
When he's nothing else to do
But the queen will not allow it
She feels betrayed and spurned -
He's made his bed - he'll lie on it
As far as she's concerned
He's fled to joy and freedom
To slumber like a log
And stroll around with Markle,
Archie and the dog
Simple Meg and Ginger
Unfettered they will be
At leisure to fulfil their dreams
In a land across the sea
But they won't be struggling for a home
And they won't be signing on -
At last the joke is over
Thank God the pair have gone !

January 20 (2020).

The Queen sits in her palace
Disheartened, sad and vexed
Wondering where it all went wrong
And what will happen next
Her dear, sweet husband Phillip
Is struggling in the task
He's losing all his marbles
And his health failing fast
He's had his romps of freedom
Of wild excess and sport
Now the FBI want Andrew
To testify in court
Harry's gone to Netflix
To make his fortune there
With ever-grinning Markle
The Duchess of Nowhere
I hope and pray they make it -
Their millions I mean
So not to live like parasites
And sponge off our good queen
For our great majesty is down -
Her throne has gone awry
It's enough to make one stamp and scream
It's enough to make one cry
But fair young Kate and William
Prevail to save the day
But I'd tell our queen to sack them all
If I had my way

January 14 (2020).

Now Harry's gone to Canada
To meet his darling wife
Then off to California
To start a bright new life
Archie and his nanny
Will shuttle back and forth
Sometimes in Los Angeles
Or Canada up north
Markle don't like Royalty
It made her fuss and fret
And now she'll do most anything
To get back on the set
No doubt she's played a blinder
And now she'll have a ball
Acting for a living
And laughing at us all
Young Harry is misguided
Perhaps a little dumb
He thought he was unhappy
But the worst is yet to come
He'll be a sad spectator
Bewildered, lost and low
Amongst the vain celebrity
Of the Megan Markle show
He thinks he's in the driving seat
Of his escapade abroad
With his Princess of delusion
And Archie boy on board
But he's much to learn from Nature
And he'll lean a fact that's strange
We all in time must older grow
But people never change !

January 13 (2020).

Our sad old queen is clinging on
With a tear in her eye -
What a way to end one's days
And what a way to die
There's a knife between her shoulder blades
And Harry put it there
Ruthlessly and willfully
Without a thought or care
Aided and abetted
By Markle Macbeth
They've sabotaged our noble queen
And put her throne to death
What a gross betrayal
To treat our sovereign so -
The finest queen in history
We British all adore
The mother of our nation
She's ruled through war and strife
I've known her since I was a kid
And loved her all my life
And now they plot to spill it all
Out west in every town
The secrets of her dynasty
And bring the palace down
These two spoilt worms of cunning
For a fortune and a thrill
Have cornered our good majesty
And are going for the kill
Just for the pleasure,
Fortune, fame and crack
But a place exists in London
Should these two snakes crawl back
It's called the Bloody Tower
And that's where they should be -
Locked away for treason
For all the world to see !

January 12 (2020).

Poor little Harry
He thinks he knows it all
He's stumbling through the darkness
And heading for the fall
He's a tragedy in waiting
And we must bear the shame
It's we the British public
It's we who are to blame
We pushed him into marriage
And urged him do what's right
To make our fairy tales come true
And fill us with delight
We put him on a pedestal
And praised him from below
To have a Prince to fawn upon
To worship and adore
We built this great persona
Mindless of his fate
To glorify our Royalty
With expectations great
But now the statue's crumbled
Of the Prince we thought we had
It's time to stop and realize
He's just a normal lad
He's weak, confused and human
Striving to be true
Caught up in a fairy tale
Just like me and you.

January 10 (2020).

I bust my knee the other day
And limped as I recall
Then I came across a man
Who had no legs at all -
Poverty is relative
And hurt is just the same
We think we have a problem
Until we think again
I need a magnifier now
My eyesight's getting sick
Then I saw a blind man
Walking with a stick
Grief and woe are relative
Each to each the strain
We think we are unfortunate
Until we think again
I fear of getting old to die
And rush my love to give
Then I heard about a boy
Who had a month to live
Suffering is relative
We only feel our pain
We think we are the only ones
Until we think again.

January 10 (2020).

It's another day in the life of us all
And another day older we are
As we enter another new decade
In a world full of friction and war
Nothing ever much changes
We still have our worries and cares
In this cauldron of strife and endeavour
In the tide of human affairs
Trump made a daring decision
And struck at Iran with a drone
Iran responded with fury
And brought down a plane of it's own
Harry and Megan have scarpered
And fled the palace of strife
Along with Archie and title
Out west to start a new life
Nothing ever much changes
Except that older we grow
Waning in purpose and power
Like a tide ebbing back from the shore
Hollywood learned a big lesson
When Ricky gave them what for
He said it don`t make a person a God
Just by being a star.
There's trouble in the Pacific
In Oz the bush is ablaze
They say it's the climate and arson
Strange things happen these days
But we all must soldier regardless
And take it all with a sigh
For the news of the world and it's drama
Will still be around when we die.

Upstart Crow.

He commanded with authority
The words of our vocabulary -
Created verse without a rhyme
To beat and flow with perfect time.
Where others strove and couldn't dare
He broke the rules of literature.
The Bard of Avon was despised
And mocked in other poet's eyes
As shapeless, crude - the upstart crow
From Stratford all those years ago,
But now the world comes to applaud
The playwright genius of the Bard
While other writers of his day
Are long forgotten, passed away.
In simple, honest script and true
He depicted souls like me and you
And doubt, however much we may -
The world's a stage and life's a play.
A master of psychology
Without the learning or degree
Born with the questions in his heart
He knew all answers from the start.
The right words said the very first time -
No need had he to make them rhyme,
For, sure and absolute they stay,
From then unto the present day.
In a nutshell and chrystalized,
His phrases are immortalized.
The characters of all his plays
Are you and I in many ways
And still today the saying goes -
Nothing changes but the clothes.
He grasped so well the human mind -
The strengths and failings of mankind
And never once did he condemn
Or judge the ways of mortal men.
But simply told it as it was -
The good and bad in all of us.
The story of our hopes and fears -
Of joy and heartbreak, love and tears
And the thousand natural shocks that come
Before our little lives are done.
To the world he left a legacy
Of timeless art and mastery -
Written, sounded, felt and heard -
The beauty of the spoken word.

Oliver

My hero is a little cat
Who sits upon my bin
Watching our establishment
And all that moves within.
I don't know where he comes from
Or where he goes at night
But he turns up every morning
Hungry for a bite.
His home is nowhere, everywhere -
His shelter - any place
Where anyone will feed him
And stroke and touch his face.
He comes and goes in mystery
Stealthily and slow
With yellow eyes all-noticing
Pausing at my door.
He looks around mistrustfully,
Cautiously aware
Before he brushes past my leg
With tail up in the air
And then he strides towards the dish
To settle squat and still
Picking and inspecting
And taking up his fill.
I`ve seen him in the early morn
Loitering around
And pacing through the shadows
On his ghostly missions bound
Watching and listening
For every sound and sight
Creeping through the stillness
Of precincts of the night.
This little cat's my hero
He faces life alone,
Free and independent
Without a settled home
He makes me feel inadequate
Pampered, meek and tame
To have so much around me
And still be weak and lame.
His life is so uncertain,
Precarious and hard
Yet he licks and prunes himself each day
As if he was a lord -
Choosy and fastidious
As regal as can be
Faithful to his ancestry
And instincts to be free.
He's answerable to no one
And takes life in his stride
Contented with small charities
And free to roam outside.
He comes and goes as he pleases
With no set date or time,
No rules or stipulations
To pull him into line.
He's a nomad and a wanderer
Straying semi-wild
With the instincts of a tiger
And the cuteness of a child.
I saw him not this morning
Sub-nourished, still and thin
Curled in expectation
Sitting on my bin
Nor did he come the day before
Or the one before that -
I wonder if he'll come again
My little hero cat ?

What anyone thinks of me...

What anybody thinks of me
Carry on - feel free -
It's on their minds and consciences
And nowt to do with me.
I've enough with my agenda
And things going on
To fret about the pettiness
Which others dwell upon.
To each his own opinion
Believing what they may
Which like unsettled weather
Changes day to day.
Thoughts are fleeting passtimes
Recycled through and through
Which entertain the idle mind
When there's nothing else to do
To each his own priority
To favour, trust or doubt
It matters not to anyone
What others think about.
Thoughts have no substance
And daily die in vain
With tedious repitition
In the chambers of the brain.
What anybody thinks of me
Is no concern of mine
I've a mountain of good things to do
And precious little time
There's a whole world in the making
And a million sights to see
Full of fascination
And Interesting to me.
I labour not with gossip
And have no axe to grind
There's an empire of knowledge
To occupy my mind.
What anybody thinks of me
Let them carry on -
It won't account for nothing
When everybody's gone.

The Amberswood Pub

Th'Amberswood has shut it's doors
In Ince for all to see -
Yesterday the count for four
Today it's only three
Working public house
And harbours of retreat
For chat and entertainment
At the bottom of the street.
It's now becoming tragic
To see these places die
The landmarks of our younger days
In busy times gone by.
Each was a rendezvous
A place of life and cheer
Where men could savour and enjoy
A proper pint of beer
In comfy, plush surroundings
Where all could come along
To meet, mix and socialize
With music, wine and song.
Society is changing
And the world is moving fast
As the Squirrell, Oak and Longneck
Cling on to the past
Destined for surrender and soon to disappear
With the good old pub tradition
From the days of yesteryear.
It's the end of the alehouse for ever -
Oh what a terrible shame
There's nowhere to go in the evening
And nothing to do on the lane.
What a lonely existence
Not to have handy and near
A welcoming, friendly old boozer
With barrels on tap full of beer,
A dartboard hung in the corner,
A bartop gleaming and bright
Where a man could lean with his nectar
Afternoon, evening or night.
No more rounds of enjoyment
Celebrations and fun
For birthdays, christenings or weddings -
Those days are over and done.
What will go for good company
And where will we go when it`s dark -
We'll have to take a big brolly
And congregate in the park
Along with our young generation
With six-pack. ashtray and wine
With a bell to call out at last orders
To meet and have a good time.
The local is doomed to extinction
A process nothing can stop
Outpriced by guinness and bitter
Sold in a can at the shop
Sunk by an ocean of lager
And a river of wines overflow
Handy, ready and waiting
At the supermarket and store.
Oh what a sorry transaction
To trade the old for the new
And silence a bar room of laughter
For a showroom of cars put on view.
Where'll be the spirit of pleasure
Warm, inviting and quaint
When Th'Amberswood's dead and surrounded
By a graveyard of glass, tin and paint.
The park, meadow and common
Will look appealing no more
To the leisurely gaze of an eye passing by
Without a tavern next door.
It stood like a picture idyllic
Against a backdrop of green
On Manchester road going eastwards
Like a vision out of a dream
But nothing good lasts for ever
And like the brook running by
It's course was stemmed and diverted
And now they're both empty and dry.
Can Row now stands as a garage
For vehicles polished and new
But we will always remember
The brook and Th'Amberswood too.

The British Legion

Mr Earls is terminal
And soon about to die -
The famous British Legion
Of Ince in days gone by.
It's outlook isn`t rosy
The prognosis is poor -
They cannot find an antidote
For remedy and cure.
Ince`s social heartland
And friendly local home
Will soon become a hapless maze
Of tarmac, glass and stone -
Another static settlement
Of dwellings, vans and cars
Subdued and uninspiring
Like a scene without a cause
T'would be a fatal blow for Ince
Should this prize venture fail
For the place has a history
Of friendliness and ale.
It's served a great community
Of character much-prized
And kept the beating heart of Ince
Alive and energised.
It`s kept our fond descendants
United with a bond
And brought us dance and music
To cheer the folk along.
This is the final bastion
Against the business trend
Of sacrificing social need
For sound financial end.
The club's a Wigan-famous
Institute of joy
And soul of our community
Since I was a boy.
It is our lasting legacy
Of fain escape from strife
Created at a brighter time
In a warmer way of life.
The good old British Legion
Has kept us entertained
With song, dance and melody
And shelter when it rained
And now the dozers stand in line
Waiting for the nod
To churn this hallowed piece of earth
Unto a flattened clod
Tearing down our heritage
Built by gradely folk
With reckless, swift abandon
And mindless, wilful stroke
To leave behind a ghostly span
Of memories betrayed
By the ruthless march of progress
And hasty judgement made.
The Belle Green and St Williams
Have succumbed to the trend
And now Big Jimmy Galvin's flit
We've lost a faithful friend.
The Conquering Hero, Prince of Wales,
The Fox and Park Hotel
Have disappeared from Google earth
With other pubs as well
While the rest stand empty, idle
In weathered disrepair
Or turned to flats and liqueur stores
To serve the people there.
The Bush stands silent on the hill
In meek and woeful brood
Bemoaning long-lost regulars
And the smell of spicy food
And but for the Squirrell, Longneck,
Amberswood and Oak
There wouldn`t be a place to drink
For Ince's working folk.
The heart of Ince is dying -
It's pulse is is faint and weak
Emasculated by the times
Without a voice to speak.
If it dont make money - pull it down
And build a thing that will
Is the modern way of business
And the path to social ill
Where the thirst for profit, paramount
Dismisses social need
And all that's good and healthy
For the sake of gain and greed.
The Engineers stands derelict -
A bar that prospered well
Driven by the price of ale
To a haunting, empty shell
Decayng and abandoned -
It's social course outrun
Looking down on Earl street
All sorrowful and glum.
The heart of Ince is under seige
And holds uncertain sway
From property developers
Somewhere far away.
Will they all not be satisfied
Till every blade is gone
And the children have no space to run
Or turf to roll upon ?
Till all it's meek inhabitants
Be celled in mortared rows
Of lifeless brick and plastic
With numbers on their doors ?
T`would be an act inglorious
And make the locals frown
To plunder such amenities
So vital to our town
But all's not lost and vanquished
Though the future's looking grim
For Ince's Britsh Legion
And Jimmy Metcalfe's gym.

Jimmy Metcalf

There's a palace of beautiful iron
By loving labour restored
Down by the old British Legion
Just off Manchester road
And the council are clueless what's in it -
They think it's just a big shed
Where men with biceps of granite
Puff till their faces are red
It's Metcalfe's gym on the common
Re-fitted and fit for a prince
Open to all and new-comers
In the sporting heartland of Ince.
It's a legacy left us by Jimmy
A local everyone knew
As a builder of protein and muscle
And a character gentle and true
Metcalfe's gym on the common
Is a challenging chamber of strain
Built by the grunts of persistence
And manic defiance of pain
Constructed by mortal ambition
To harness, train and subdue
The power of mind over body
And mould it healthy and new
It's a wayside chapel of fervour,
Self-deprivation and prayer
For the sublime quest for perfection
Of a body aesthetic and rare.
Metcalfe's gym on the common
Has a character all of it`s own,
Quaintly designed with tradition
To make it's athletes at home.
It's aura is warm and inviting
And vibrations soft and benign
Cleansed by the sweat of endeavour
By the visiting spirits of time.
It's a one-off, old-time gymnasium -
A hall of nostalgia in wealth
So much one can feel it's creator -
Jimmy Metcalfe himself.

The Belle Green Pub

What's happened to our old Belle Green -
The best pub in the land
That warm and friendly rendezvous
Where our fathers drank and sang.
It looks a bit like Colditz
Somewhere out in Wales
Selling sweets and chocolate bars,
Spirits, wines and ales.
What a transformation
From the place that I once knew
Which thrived in the bustling, labouring days
With patrons good and true.
My granddad would be livid
If he looked up from his feet
And saw this great monstrosity
From the end of Chatham street.
He'd run and kick the cobbles
And cry out in despair
And scream out vile obscenities
To see it standing there
Like a castle from Bavaria
Planted overnight
To shock the eyes of the waking
And give the folk a fright.
He'd fly into a paddy
And stamp his feet and toes
For the Belle Green was his sacred shrine
For darts and dominoes.
It was his den of solace
And refuge from the home
Where he could meet and socialise
And never be alone
And grandma too would be dismayed
To see her favourite spot
In the corner of the buzzing Snug
Turned into a shop
With rows of crisps and biscuits
And piles of Special Brew
Blighting the cosy atmosphere
Of the vibrant place she knew
Where she would sit on a Friday night
On a stool behind the door
As the cheery residents of Ince
With smiles did come and go
Listening to the singers
Belt out songs of joy
Like Rawhide and Jerusalem
And her favourite Danny Boy.
She'd slip into a panic
And start to chew her gums,
Quake with devastation
And sink into the glums
To see her little table
With her mat and gill of stout
Turn into a wine-rack
With not a soul about
And all my Aunts and Uncles
Would shudder and lament
To see their famous public house
Become a circus tent -
Their hub of fun and laughter
Lost and left to cry
With cones of desolation
Reaching for the sky.
It was our hive of friendship
And hub of cheer and joy
Built by the working men of Ince
And passed from man to boy
Which prospered in it`s heyday
Of coal fires and smoke
Proud amongst the chimney stacks
Of Ince's gradely folk
Where every lively weekend
Dressed up to the nines,
The toiling families of Ince
Enjoyed their happy times
When stiletto heels on cobbles
Paused to stride again
And the smell of scent and brylcream
Wafted on the lane
Where often on a Winter's night
Through a warm, inviting haze
The glowing hearths of the Belle Green pub
Would set the scene ablaze
While on a rowdy Summer`s night
The folk stood side by side -
As the vault was packed from wall to wall
And the doors were open wide.
Oh, happy days of Belle Green lane
When life was sweet and slow
All the pubs have vanished
And there's nowhere left to go.
The Prince of Wales is dead and gone
To set the solemn mood -
The Engine now stands derelict
And the Bush sells spicy food
And now the jewel in our crown -
Our asset at the top
Is turned to flats and tenements
Above a lager shop.
Sacrilege has done it's worst
And silenced now for good
The last beating heart of hope
For Ince - the Belle Green pub.
The final toast is over
Though memories linger on
The landlord called 'Last Orders' !
And all the ghosts are gone.

St Williams

Saint Williams church is closing down -
So the rumour goes
Why and when exactly
No one really knows
But we are shocked and horrified
That such a thing could be -
We've known it all our adult life
From our infancy.
Our ancestors and fathers
All went there to pray
And now it's closing down for good ?
God forbid the day !
We shouldn't let it happen
And we shouldn't take it light -
It's an ecumenical matter
But it's definitely not right.
What will we do without it
It's been around so long
Propping up the heart of Ince
With mass and evensong.
It's our ancient institution
And It's always been the same
Behind the cherry blossom trees
Down in Ince Green lane.
Who's going to listen to our sins
And dish out bread and wine
And pass the silver tray along
As we worship the Divine ?
We shouldn't let it happen -
This blow is much too hard
It's an outrage of religion
And a sin against the Lord.
It's been our rock of ages
In this little parish town
And life will never be the same
If they choose to close it down.
Who will read the scriptures
And wear the holy frock
To sanctify our families
And bless our little flock.
Who will then look over us
And teach us wrong from right -
Harken our confessions
And guide us to the light.
Who'll baptise our babies
And keep out children blessed
And when our little lives are through
Lay our souls to rest.
It's a crime against all Incers
Wherever they may be
To close Saint Bills for ever
For all posterity.
It's all too unacceptable -
This catastrophic news
We should occupy and barricade
Our little church with pews
We should climb upon the vestry roof
And get down on our knees -
Wave our crucifixes
And shake our rosaries.
We shouldn't let it happen
It's far too much to face -
It's bang out of order
And a spiritual disgrace
To shut down our Saint Williams
After all these years
Can only bring us heartache
And penitential tears.
What the devil's going on
To meddle with our creed ?
We'll call on Saint Theresa
And Paul to intercede !
We'll tell the Holy Mary
And the blessed Sacred Heart
This cruel and ungodly act
Will tear our lives apart.
We'll reach out to Saint Benedict
And pray to help us cope
With succour, strength and fortitude,
Deliverance and hope
And if our prayers are in all vain
And we don't hear a thing -
We'll get on to the Vatican
And give the Pope a ring !