Ten politicians went out to dine.
One claimed too much for lunch, and then there were nine.
Nine politicians sat up very late.
One moved across the floor, and then there were eight.
Eight politicians thought they were in heaven.
One had his morals checked, and then there were seven.
Sing-a-song-a ten quid, a pocket full of change,
Four and twenty MPs decided to be strange,
‘Open and more honest’
Is all they had to say
What a sadly state it is, the rest don’t want to play!
Cameron in his wisdom, wants rid of policies,
Members of the public, worn down to their knees
The power and corruption….
Really can’t get any worse,
Bar four and twenty MPs, they’re all a bloody curse.
(I’ll get me coat)….!!!!
A few alternative nursery rhymes for Janus… but written a while back , so probably don’t count for the competition!
Lottery
There was a crooked man,
who walked a crooked mile,
he found a crooked pound coin,
upon a crooked stile,
he bought a crooked lotto ticket,
and won a crooked prize,
and went abroad to sunny Spain,
which was very, very wise. Continue reading “Alternative Nursery Rhymes”
He remains at number two on Top Posts.
Herodotus wrote down the tale,
It covers several pages.
A true account or merely spin?
It must have taken ages.
For crimes of lust against his fellow man
Wilde had got his come-uppance
Celled sardined with varied beasts
His life was not worth tuppence
A lengthy stretch lay ahead
A lo-o-o-o-o-o–n-n-n-n-n-g sentence Continue reading “The Ballad of reading in Gaol (Bilby Comp)”
My nookie days are over, my pilot light is out. Continue reading “Willie Nelson: Penis Poem”
A cannibal, newly converted,
was rather a tad disconcerted
when his honeymoon sweetie
spurned everything meaty
as though it were something perverted. Continue reading “The Feast (Limerick Competition)”
On Sundays, sometimes to keep them all sweet,
I cook them a joint of some sort of meat
Beef is the best,
No word of a jest
The trimmings just make it complete.
Originally to be found buried in the monolithic thread. Now fully deserving a place of its own. A William Hague ditty about old Guido.
Beware the tales you tell backfire on you
Trails of entrails snaking the milieu
Causing untold harm to each and everyone
Repent! Repent! Unlearn to loose your tongue
Curb those barb’d blurbles that gush frequently
Vandalising lifestyle ways snarlingly
Slaughter you’ve wrought blood red under sky blue
Scales we call justice are swinging for you
You can run and you can hide like a fox
We’ll claw your dial as sure as ticking clock
The bles’d poets down here write nothing at all
The pen fell’d dead violently on the wall
Clemency for your effigy. No luck
We’ll dance on your grave with lighted fireworks
Boadicea's Chariot 
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