Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
The Millionaire
The Millionaire When she checked the invoice For her third, gold Rolls Royce, The salesman had hiked his commission, So she sent round a team, Who shattered his dream and removed his con-rod with precision.
Hobbo's Poems 
the richier, the bitchier
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A classy lassie!
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If I read this one correctly (often you Brits are obscure) you have once again stepped into the risque. Nicely. (Um. Not thatyou are obscure as much as I am ignorant.)
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You have read it perfectly!
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You old rogue, you!
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That’s me!
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… erm … “the con-rod connects the piston to the crankshaft to transfer combustion” … I think this has something to do with farts. No? Yes?
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🤣🤣🤣 Misky! You are over-thinking this. He’s a con man and like all men, he has a rod of sorts. Thanks for the misunderstanding though, you had me laughing out loud!
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ouch !!!
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