I last spoke to my father, ten years ago today,
I asked him how he was, and he replied ok,
And how are things beyond? said I, T’was then I heard him say,
Son I’ve sold the house and land and drank it all away.
Ah well, never mind, said I, easy come and easy go,
Just out of curiosity was it anyone I know?
T’was then the fecker landed me that fatal final blow.
Aye, son you do, I sold it to the greedy old Keogh
Tea is the drink I love.
A taste that comes from heaven above.
I wake every day and the fourth thing I do,
(after 3/dressing 2/washing 1/going to the loo)
is stick on the kettle and have my first brew.
Tea just tastes divine.
You can stick your coffee, whisky and wine.
Two sugars and milk, fill my mug to the top,
steady when walking, on the floor, it will slop.
Tea really lifts my mood.
But I get slightly miffed if it’s over-brewed.
though even then, with its very strong taste,
I still drink it down, not a drop do I waste.
Tea just never gets old.
When I leave it too long I still drink it cold
and when my time, on this earth comes to pass,
please bury me somewhere along with my flask
As night draws on to early dawn
Young foxes play upon the lawn
Silence clears the mind and soul
And darkness is as black as coal
Images start to appear
At first dim but slowly clear
Consciousness slips & dreaming starts
Then abruptly shattered by Molly’s farts
And this one’s extra smelly too
I’d better check for follow through
Summer Comes
Sweaty Bums
Stinky Drains
Smelly Trains
Sahara Sands
Sticky hands
Silly fights
Sleepless nights
Lazy lion dozing on the savannah plain
in the heat of the midday sun
You look so noble with your golden mane
Oh crap, he’s awake… Run!!!
Tinklebell was sat upon the loo
Just reading ‘Elf Weekly’ while having a poo
When out from the corner of her eye
She saw a sight that made her sigh
The panic struck right to her soul
She’d forgotten to replace the empty loo roll
The owl and the pussycat went to sea
The owl said ‘pussy, stop staring at me’
The pussy said ‘owl, you really are sweet,
all drizzled in honey, a delicious treat.’
We walked for miles, avoiding bees
Up and down, around the trees
Until today on weekly parade
You finally cut your very last blade
I recall the day the smelly man
Sold you to me second hand
11 years a faithful friend
And now it’s all come to an end
We started off at normal pace
Along the path leaving no space
Three-quarters done in the blink of an eye
Then I felt your motor die
You might have whirred your very last spin
But I won’t put you in the bin
I’ll leave you on the garage wall
And see if you’re repairable
I thought I’d try just one last bid
With Phillips in hand, removed the lid
Noticed the bushes were slightly worn
Pushed them in & the mower was reborn
Alas today it’s second wind
Has finally come to an end
Rest in peace old friend…
I had an uncle who is now in heaven,
he was seven foot tall and his name was Kevin.
Said to his brother’s ‘you’re only feckin’ small’
And they were all nearly six foot tall.
One winter evening, the snow was falling,
the younger’s came running as Kevin came calling.
‘We’ll go to the pub, you small lads can pay’
‘c’mon now hurry up, let’s go, don’t delay’
So off in the snow, on that cold winter night
the brothers did go, as they didn’t want to fight
that giant of a man who towered over them all,
as he kept telling them, ‘you’re only feckin’ small’
The tirade of abuse continued for about a mile,
it got too much for the youngest after a while.
So while Kevin hurled abuse to those who were younger
the smallest grabbed him by the legs in a fit of anger
He might have been smaller but he had enough strength
to hop Kevin over a white picket fence
His legs got wedged in between the wide slats
he fell into the garden, landed flat on his back
He couldn’t get up, so pleaded with them all,
‘if you help me out of this , I’ll never call you small’
On that night, he learned a valuable lesson,
No matter what your size, with small lads don’t be messing.
treat them with respect one and all,
because The taller you are, the further you’ll have to fall.
.
As both my parents are Irish, whenever we went on holiday it was split between Galway and Tipperary. Of the two locations, Tipperary was the most picturesque. The old cottage was situated halfway up a hill, overlooking the Shannon, with a stream meandering along the boundary of my granddad’s land, which consisted of a few acres of pasture with a large copse towards the east. He was a postman however, and only used the land for chickens, goats and donkeys.
Around the cottage there was a stone wall which formed a courtyard, with a small barn at one end, and a cattle trap at the other used for containing livestock. On this particular day, there happened to be a donkey in the metal paddock, I was ushered over by a pair of grinning siblings who told me it would be great fun to sit on the donkey while it was in the trap. I agreed and was helped up by my brother who said we should take it in turns, smallest first as not to scare the beast.
No sooner was I on the donkey’s back, sis pulled on the bolt, which unfastened the gate, It swung wide open, and now I was on an angry braying giant steed of a donkey, which was galloping across the field with such speed my curly hair straightened. It was heading for the copse in a mighty hurry, and I was clinging on as tightly to it’s mane as possible, laying across it’s back, too scared to let go. Thankfully as the donkey approached the copse it slowed to a trot and stopped braying. The siblings must have thought I had tamed the beast but it was still moving slowly, and now it had entered the copse.
About ten feet in, we came across some resistance, in the form a branch which had made its way between my back and the T shirt I was wearing and as donkey kept moving I slowed to a halt until finally I was left dangling from the branch like a piñata. The Donkey moved a few feet further into the scrub and started grazing while I cried.
Luckily the unfolding drama had been seen by Uncle Michael who ran across, unhooked me and then informed mam that her daughter was a “devilish little fecker” I felt some satisfaction, at least I wasn’t the only one who cried that day. My older brother was not blamed, as mam said he was to saintly to have known what sis was going to do and would have stopped her had he known.
The following day was a hot sunny day and was sent to play outside wearing nothing more than Y fronts and sandals, I looked like an Irish baby Jesus. While playing in the courtyard I saw sis on top of the wall looking exited, giving off little squeals of pleasure, I had to see what she was up to, and by climbing up the cattle gate I was able to hop on it beside her, unknown to me there was a large nettle patch on the other side which she promptly pushed me into. About ninety percent of my body was stung, only the Y front area and soles of my feet were spared. dock leaves soothed the itching, I cried, she laughed.
Since then, we have mostly loved but on occasion hated each other, but no matter what frame of mind we’re in, she’ll always be my big sis. xx
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