6. Hobbo in love

Photo by Hannah Stevens on Pexels.com
Father's day
The father's day gift
Which gave him a lift,
From his loving and wonderful wife
Was as old as the hills,
A cure for all ills
And proved that the old dog had life.
The Penitent Prince
I stand in the loud
Jubilee crowd,
Next to a redhead named Harry,
Whose balcony days
Are over, he says;
Choose wisely the person you marry.

First Cut
A husband who proved his vitality
By a life of debauched immorality
Was shown by his wife
With the aid of a knife
Her version of nob hospitality.
Pronunciation denunciation
You'll become a pariah
if you call it Yorkshire
and people will sneer
if you dare say Yorkshire
but the girl from Minorca
pronouncing it Yorkshire,
I will cover in kisses
and take for my Mrs.
Old Soul Mates
after our
sexual shenanigans
the laughter
the loving
the fun
we can be
quiet together
for you
my dear friend
are the one
Sunday Morning
Birds belt out their standards
from a neighbouring tree
as we cradle our cuddles
and a stay-in-bed tea.

A heady aroma
sharing post-nooky yawning,
life's simple treasures
on a sundayspringmorning.
You were the cherry on my icing,
my sweet and sticky bun
until I was deserted
and now my love, that scone!
Lonely hearts ad
Old man - slightly obsessive
Seeks other half - spotlessly clean
Age or good looks not a factor
But ideally responds to 'Hi, Jean.'
The honeymoon
With her ankles peripheral in vision,
The young man was set on his mission
To have and to hold
As in stories of old,
Cementing their love with a frisson.
Telling the parents
She picked a quiet moment
when all around was hushed,
to say she'd fallen pregnant
or was, more precisely, pushed.
Rivers of love
Loving is easy
Along the Zambezi
But it's slower and sexy
On the banks of the Yangtze.
Arable Romance
A farmer who's looking for love
Is keen, a young girl to enrapture
To share all his acres of land
And add to his coupling a tractor.

His ad in the lonely hearts says,
Landed gent, seeks a girl with X-factor,
Please enclose photo of you,
Or, better still, one of your tractor.
Slumber will not come,
I've tired out the sheep,
Tried reading boring books
But cannot get to sleep.

Advice from several friends
Is try to count my blessings
But, wed for fifty years,
I'm better counting yessings!
Marital Discretion
"Does my bum look big in this dear?"
"Why, yes, it looks enormous,"
Not the phrase she wants to hear,
And you may end up homeless.
A relaxed life
Put a smile on your dial,
It's always worth while
To look on the bright side of life.
You can live hassle free
If you simply agree
With the wisdom espoused by your wife.
Weight gain
My girl's getting fatter,
A fast growing jewel;
When I try to get round her,
I run out of fuel.
An easy mistake
She said, "Viagra."
I heard, "Niagra",
and told her, "It's not worth the trip."
Now, instead of the falls,
She is washing her smalls
And I've got a fat bottom lip.
Les Hommes
They spend
the first nine months
of their lives
working their way
out of our bodies
and the rest
of their lives
figuring out
to get back in  again;
Sex scenes
The actors who play out
sex scenes on the telly,
to be perfectly frank,
must be really quite smelly.

No matter the mood or
the place or the hour,
there is afterwards
no thought of a shower.

They roll out of bed and
pull on an old shirt,
no brushing of teeth;
dashing quickly to work.

And, Mr Director, I'm
not one to quibble,
but amongst all that passion,
no mention of dribble.
A night in
Jeremy took Joanne skating,
Suggesting afterwards, they ate in;
With the hope, it might mean mating.

Agreeing, Joanne thought a date in
Could lead to romance worth 'A' rating
Deliveroo girl though, was late in

Kept the young couple a-waiting,
Expecting for this, a berating
Received instead but mild placating.

Soon as they'd done masticating,
Parents came home, relegating
Their plans to the bin, frustrating.
The press of time
If we were blessed with unlimited years,
none of times whispering press in our ears,
chance for reflection, to pause, take a breath,
no nagging thoughts of inevitable death.

My darling, I'd love you, at first from afar,
spend a millenium admiring your star,
another light year before I told you
my feelings, enclosed in a sweet billet-doux.

Centuries more, I would take to describe
your beauty of which, long before I imbibe,
I'd gladly spend eons, singing your praise,
decades explaining, you brighten my days.

Time though is short, for we all turn to dust,
live life while we can and must do what we must.
We both of us know that all things come to pass
So let's make some babies, here now - in this grass.
What a night
That wine-loving wife of the vicar's
Woke up in a state with no knickers
In the back of a hearse,
No cash in her purse
And her abdomen covered in stickers.
I do not
A target of unholy wedlock
Was placed in a tight, lowly headlock
And dragged down the aisle,
Where, forcing a smile,
He swallowed a fistful of hemlock.
When she complained to me
Too much sport on TV
I told her to stop talking tosh,
So she gained eighteen stone
And now doesn't moan,
Instead, we enjoy playing squash.
It's only love
Love is a fledgling learning to fly,
a glint of a kill in an old tiger's eye,
treacherous too, as the crocodile's smile
and patient to wait, like the sloth, for a while.

Love's a spring flower ready to bloom,
the flash of her calf when she walks in the room,
a skip of the heart as she catches your eye,
unbelievably-beautiful blue of the sky.

Love is the hunger that has to be fed,
an aching that won't go away in your head,
Olympic pursuits in the back of a car,
gently insisting, you will not go too far.

Love is a token, a valuable gift,
That can jump up and bite you, give you short shrift,
Love makes you foolish, witless, absurd,
At the end of the day, it's a four-letter word.
Enemies from the beginning
And equally deft at mudslinging;
He said, she'd a figure
Like Roy Rodger's Trigger,
She retorted, his singing was minging.
The attraction of opposites
My wife's a jolly person;
She is optimistic, smug,
Laughs and chuckles all the time,
A proper gigglemug.

Me, well I'm the opposite;
Huffing and a-puffing,
Always narky, grumpy, cross,
A regular humgruffin.

Gigglemug:  Someone habitually happy and smiling
Humgruffin:  A terrible or repulsive person
That garden
We stumbled on sex
To be fair,
But in many respects
We don't care.

A woman called Eve
Found a passage;
Was the first, I believe
To play hide the sausage.
They were caught, courting
Little sister reporting
Everything she had seen to her dad,
Who gave them advice
On the price of their vice
But had nothing much further to add.
All is fair
My missus insisted, perforce
In filing a suit for divorce'
She got the new Volvo,
The yacht and the condo,
I got squit-diddle of course.
Like petals on a rose
You have stripped them, one by one
Left my bruised and battered stamen
To shrivel in the sun.

The honey bees all left
When the nectar turned so sour
As our love, dismembered, bleeding
Became a bitter flower.
A widder's wiles
You'll not catch me
with your widder's ways;
I'm no callow youth
in a lust-filled haze.

I'll not be trapped
by your sexy smile'
those almond eyes
or your widder's guile.

I can't be got
by tossing your hair,
a pouting mouth
or a come-to-bed stare.

You don't fool me
with those honey-trap eyes
or the tempting smell
of your hot meat pies.

Dickens warned Sam
about widders like you;
if I do pop round,
it'll be for a brew.

Widder:  widow  
Sam:  Sam Weller, a character in Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens    
Brew:  a cup of tea or coffee
Three Sisters
Three single mothers
Met a trio of brothers,
Marrying quick as a flash;
One for romance,
One took a chance
And one, who was gay, for the cash.
The boyfriend who tried to bamboozle
His girl on a three month long cruise'll
Do well to reflect
On the likely effect
If she goes but then sticks with refusal.
Talk talk
Though she may not make sense,
She has her two cents,
Insisting she has the last word.
On a ratio score
Of about one in four,
I manage to make myself heard.
A Yorksher compliment
All things considered;
Weighing up the pros and cons;
When push comes to shove;
In the cold light of day;
Even though I am sober;
Taking everything into account;
Making a few allowances;
Giving you the benefit of the doubt
And bearing in mind
That it's not necessarily your fault;
I think on the whole
It's fair to say that
I have seen worse looking women.
Secret Love
In the absolute quiet
of the three-nines hours,
the green glow
of the hearing-aid dock
communes silently
with the ghostly glimmer
on the pacemaker monitor;
whilst between them
their grateful owners
dream of youth and passion,
unaware of this digital love
flourishing, clandestinely
under their septuagenarian noses.

three-nines:  UK dialling code for emergency services is 999
how green is my valley
wouldn't you like to know
how clean is my alley
I keep it just so
how firm are your feelings
how ardent your love
how shady your dealings
when push comes to shove
how honest your answers
how solid your shield
how dirty your dancers
how level your field
how new your inventions
how white is your snow
how good your intentions
and how will I know
Ere Romeo and Juliet
Amassed devotees, legion
Juliet's main attraction;
Her bra - balcony region.

Cleopatra's love 
Was almost in his grasp
When Anthony fixed her mum's back door
And offered her an 'asp.

Delilah cut his hair,
He'd asked her for a trim;
When Samson saw a mirror,
It proved too much for him.

Henry eighth, the cruelest though,
When Anne Boleyn soft said,
I'd like to lose a little weight,
He yelled, Off with her head!
A life recycled
A youthful me
ran marathons,
cycled the length and breadth
of the country,
made waves continually,
was arrogant,
confident and ambitious,
had a young wife,
small children,
dozens of friends,
no money
and no spare time.

The present me
runs to the loo,
recycles his rubbish,
and shakes continuously.
I am more thoughtful
but less confident;
blessed with
the same beautiful wife,
adult children
with their own loved ones,
and a handful
of truly special friends.
I am comfortable
and have time for reflection.

A return to health
would be great
but a return to youth
and a denial of 
a wonderful life;
not so sure.
The present me
is happy
and at peace
Orally speaking
They had oral sex
To try something new,
Admitting defeat
When faced with the view.

Not the result
That either had picked,
It left a bad taste,
With both of them licked.
A setback
A bit of a setback this week,
bad, so to speak.
Mrs H, pissed;
here is the gist.

The wire in her thingamabob
slipped, rubbish job.
Now, start again,
bit of a pain.

She's managed to smile and stay cool,
Hobbo's no fool.
She can relax;
he'll get the vax.
For a quieter life
Without any wife,
He had her bumped off, pretty quick.
He now spends his leisure
At Majesty's pleasure
Mopping tiled floors in the nick.
If, as you age,
you are doing it
less frequently
than you once did it

and you start believing
that you're past it;
try enforced absence
from doing it

for a month or so.
You'll soon find it
is all you think about
and that it

becomes an obsession
to the point where it
takes over until, relieved,
you get to finally do it

again, and realise
that although it
isn't everything, you're
not quite past it!
Treasure Chest
Ignoring her dad, overbearing,
Her outfit was low-cut and daring.
Meeting up with her prof,
They kissed and sailed off
With a chest modified for seafaring.
The News
We've got some news
for you both.
We held our 
collective breath.

Me and Claire
(posh was never 
our family thing)
are engaged
to be married.

Never say never,
our eldest son,
the best news ever.

At last, loves requited,
two families, united.
Parters for life,
husband and wife.

We wish them the best:
happiness, wealth,
a future together,
raise a glass to their health.
A step too far
The song says three steps to Heaven.
The songwriter though doesn't tell
If you take a next step and get married
That fourth could lead straight into Hell.
Coffee or tea,
Coffee or tea?
Coffee for you,
Green tea for me.

Egg fried or plain,
Egg fried or plain?
Egg fried for you,
Give me the same.

Country or town,
Country or town?
You choose the country,
I'll follow you down.

Footy or flicks,
Footy or flicks?
You'll watch the film,
I'll watch the kicks.

White wine or beer,
White wine or beer?
A glass of the white,
I'll join you my dear.

Supper or sex,
Supper or sex?
Supper you say,
I'll pull up my kecks.

Kecks:  UK slang for a pair of trousers.
A perfect gift
Torn between lavish and thrift,
He was stuck what to buy for a gift.
Expecting a ring,
She was given a swing
And gave her new boyfriend short shrift.
She said, he shouldn't,
He promised, he wouldn't,
Tongue planted firmly in cheek.
He tried it on,
She chopped it off,
Curtailing his lying technique.
The little old man
A little old man
Shared his little old house
With a little old dog
And a little old mouse.

He wore little old specs
For his little old eyes,
Dressed in little old suits
Matched with little old ties.

He ate little old scraps
From his little old fridge,
Chewed with little old dentures
On a little old bridge.

Then his little old dog
Took a little old walk
And left little old mouse
For a little old talk.

Asked the little old mouse,
Where is little old wife?
In the little old shed
With a little old knife.

Carving little old dolls
Dressed in little old sacks,
Sticking little old pins
In their little old backs.

Cos her little old ears
Heard some little old goss
About little old me
Loving little old Floss.
My Girl(s)
Jasmine is out,
afraid she is minging,
Carol, I like,
if she'd only stop singing.

Sheila from Oz
wouldn't let me down under,
Star, she was great,
a real cosmic wonder.

Lisa, she's cool,
but I wanted to buy her,
Verity, sadly
turned out a liar.

Susan was lazy
but told a good tale,
Chris was the one,
till she turned out a male!
Breathing Space
My missus said
she needed space,
we're in each 
other's pocket.
I stuffed her jim-jams
in her case
and put her
on a rocket.
Can I have a word
A puzzled lexophile
is scrabbling for a wife,
meets red-hot bibliophile
and gets har-punned for life.

Cross words are exchanged,
it is love at first fight;
with their palindrome names
everything seems so right.

Searching for words,
anagrams toggled,
a moonful of honey,
twenty-four hour Boggle.

Offspring produced
leaned towards maths,
Sudoku and Rummikub,
top of their class.
My Eye
You were the apple 
of my eye,
your aqueous humour
made me cry.
You'd the optic nerve
to tell me lies,
I'm not your pupil,
you're a cornea guy!
Better Half
She's my partner, my missus,
a slave to the dishes,
the woman who I must obey.
She's my better half, wife,
she's the bane of my life
and sometimes she's even  risqué.

She's a kitchen godess
but her hair is a mess
and her relatives bore me to tears.
She's called her-indoors.
I can't sleep for her snores,
how the heck have we gone fifty years!

She will analyse, criticise,
often she'll roll her eyes,
occasionally, she gets on my tits.
That's forced, it's a bloke thing,
of course I am joking,
you do know I love her to bits.
Small Talk
I do love a natter,
The patter of chatter,
That putting the whole world to rights.
The toing and froing,
The pleasure of knowing
How things are resolved without fights.

The cut-the-crap chit-chat,
And verbalised tit-for-tat
are what-makes-us-human type things.
The rumour, the goss,
Sifting truth from the dross,
The happiness small-talking brings.

But, my dear's tittle-tattle
Is unceasing prattle,
No pausing, not even to hiccup.
Non-stop her blathering
At every small gathering,
I do wish my woman would shut-up.
She's passed the covid test,
we're now in isolation,
the op's in two days time,
a cutting consolation.

I hope that all goes well
and I didn't act in haste
or the money spent on flowers
will have been a blooming waste.
The right thing
To do the foolish thing
is always easy;
to do the right thing
requires more thought.

To follow the crowd
is comforting;
standing apart
takes courage.

Lies slip deftly
from loose lips;
the truth is
a harder taskmaster.

Saying I love you
is effortless;
but perplexingly,
I don't really know.
i miss you so much,
everywhere I turn
are constant reminders;

The sweet scented rose;
how prickly you could be.
The hourglass vase;
how fragile you were.

The delicate flowers;
the attention you needed.
The changeable weather;
your capricious moods.

The twinkling stars;
your ability to lie.
And the dog's soulful eyes;
the shit that you sold me.

But I still miss you.
Tea darling
Strangers who
haven't yet met,
become nearest
and dearest of friends.
Couples take
vows at the altar
unsure where
their own story ends.

You and me
though, we're forever,
till death us do part
we will be;
which with luck
will be sooner, not later,
I've slipped some
strychnine in your tea.
mummy and daddy
love me and my brother
but mummy and daddy
do not love each other

mummy and daddy
love baby of course
but mummy and daddy
are getting divorced

they said divorce means
there'll be less of a bother
so I want a divorce
from my silly brother
I like, I love
I like my dad,
I love my mam,
Respect my aunt,
Admire my gran.

My bro's a laugh,
my cousin too,
the neighbour, she's
a silly moo.

And my best friend
well, that's my sis
but you're the one
I love to kiss.


She's dragged me round each store
until my feet are sore,
shopping till we drop;
I'm knackered girl, please stop.
My legs are on the brink
of packing in, I think
I'd really love a break
before my arms, which ache
stretch any blooming longer
under all these bags, though stronger
men than I, would spot a little chink;
that cosy pub, I need a drink.

Next time, I'll go alone
all he does is moan;
we've only bought a bit
and he's giving me such shit.
When we go to B and Q
he has so much work to do
that he can spend all day
choosing toys with which to play.
One foot in M and S
and his head is in a mess;
"Can't you leave that on the shelf?"
No! Next time, I'll go myself.
Self love
The Hollywood actor
had spent
so long
up his own
that he was
to the shit
he was talking
and the arse
of himself
he was making.
Seeking an answer, definitive,
She boldly split her infinitive;
Do you really love me,
Shrieked out hysterically,
Was hardly the question most sensitive.
Sweet love
You're my fruitcake, my creamcake,
my black forest gateau,
my ice cream and crumble,
maid of honour, gelato.
You're my treacle tart, yogurt,
profiteroles, popover,
my fruit salad cocktail,
my raspberry pavlova.
You're my rice pudding, cupcake,
honeyed tiramasu,
the sweetest of sweets, dear
and gosh, I love you.
Crying game
Your crying game,
what's the aim?

Is it shame?
Am I always to blame.

You claim an old flame
with no name, in the frame.

I came to explain,

It's always the same,
are you game?
Foolish words
Stroke of midnight, wife awoke
to drunken husband having smoke
on doorstep, "Right,"  she said,
"You've had enough, now get to bed!"

Foolishly he tried to joke,
"Sorry darling, piston broke."
She'd had enough now, mist of red,
he's now beneath their flower bed.
Finding God
She found her God
under the dry tarpaulin
of an unused fairground ride.

Every gentle thrust
rang a little bell
on the stylised fire engine.

And as his ardour hardened,
her fire flew higher,
ringing her little bell.
My imaginary friend
and I both parted, at the end
she never paid her round in bars
or took her turn at doing chores.
She put on airs and took the Mick
but what was really rather sick
and turned our friendship to a joke
was when she stole my phantom bloke.
(a parody of Delilah)
I saw the prize in her eyes when she came home from courting,
I heard the quivering tremors of love in her voice.
She was my daughter,
As she defied me, I turned and spoke out, I'd no choice.

My, my, my Jemimah,
Why, why, lie, a miner!
I could see, his job was soon to go green
But he was first love, goodness, I know what that means.

As time went on there was more and more unemployment,
The future was green, and fossil had gone through the floor.
She wouldn't listen,
I lost my temper my friend and showed her the door.

My, my, my Jemimah,
Why, why, lie, a miner!
So, before I get to see you no more,
Forgive me Jemimah, I just didn't want you left poor.

She wouldn't listen,
I lost my temper my friend and showed her the door.

My, my, my Jemimah,
Why, why, lie, a miner!
So, before I get to see you no more,
Forgive me Jemimah, I just didn't want you left poor.
Food of love
His girlfriend had long legs, sericious
Which she smothered in trifle, delicious,
Rubbing custard and jelly
All over her belly,
He ate it for supper, flagitious.
Whilst walking my canine along the Pennines,
A maiden waylaid me, done up to the nines,
Who asked, "Kindly sir, with your handsome old dog,
Could you find me my shoe which I've lost in this bog."

"Far better," quoth I, so as not to deceive her,
"At your services ma'am, my jet black retriever."
Dauphy instinctively knew what to do,
He dived in the mud and he fished out the shoe.

The maid was effusive, fluttering her eyes,
Blimey, I thought, I've caught me a prize!
Mistakenly thinking, I'd gained me a trophy,
Her attentions were elsewhere, she'd fallen for Dauphy.
The men in her life
She had excuses off Pat,
Wiped the floor with Matt,
Albie Quick would not stay,
Her little sunshine was Ray.
The gardeners
Two star crossed lovers,
Who lived with their mothers
Needed quality time spent together.
They installed double beds
In their mums' garden sheds,
Propagating, whatever the weather.
Weather front
With Summer sunshine gone
He slips his cardy on
And patiently concludes
That she's never in the mood.
When fish have wings
When fish have wings
and birds sprout fins,
when priests have stings
and wasps bear sins,
when West is East
and East the West
when kings are fleeced
and paupers blessed
and when the sun
falls from the sky,
till then, my hon,
our love won't die.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
"Hello," she said, with a rueful smile,
"I haven't seen you in here for a while."
"Why, hello," the response and a lecherous grin,
"Are you trying to tell me, my luck could be in?"
"You're joking," said she, her expression agog,
"Five hours in the pub! Your tea's in the dog!"
My favourite place
The snow bonneted 
in Canada
are stunning.

The brooding immensity
 of Uluru
in Australia
has a haunting atmosphere.

The precision
of the Egyptian pyramids
is mind blowing.

The idiosyncratic customs
of western Europe
are charming.

And the home spun beauty
that is England
is reassuring.

But of all the places
around the world,
my favourite
by a country mile,
is snuggled up
in bed, at home
with you.
Same old, same old
A man from Japan
Meets girl with a van,
Now he has a plan
Involving divan,
To see her sun tan.

He fears a ban,
But she says, he can,
The same old flim-flam,
He is her man,
And she's now a mam.
There may be a squabble.
Nay, even a wobble.
Marriages aren't always rosy,
But, if he is the one,
Rain soon turns to sun
And once again, everything's rosy.
The Riposte
Without you, I see, nothing.
Without you, I feel, nothing.
Without you, I have, nothing.
Without you, I am, nothing.

Without me, you do, nothing!
Eating in bed
I've a wart on my todger!
You silly old codger.
I'm not look, I'll show you, it's there!
You fool, that's a crumb.
Soon flicked off with my thumb,
Crikey, thank you, that gave me a scare!
My Yorksher girl
My girl, is a Yorksher pearl,
She's a wine drinking, beer sinking,
hard swearing, tattoo wearing,
love making, back breaking,
French kissing, teeth missing,
shit slinging, horrid singing,
weight lifting, heavy shifting,
dart playing, dragon slaying,
fat frying, bare-faced lying,
curse yelling, B.O smelling,
dole scrounging, lizard lounging,
thought provoking, heavy smoking,
pub stripping, skinny dipping,
twice in jail, hard as nails,
fast food eating, husband cheating,
body hairy, downright scary,
stay up late, overweight,
opinionated, overrated,
pox carrying, never marrying,
pudding of a Yorksher girl!
Two Sugars
She shimmied about in her negligiggle,
Seductively giving her hips a wiggle.
"I'm feeling romantic," she pouted.
Husband looked up, said,"Don't doubt it,
But this is a good book I'm reading
Before footy, and 'ferrets need feeding.
And it's not superman that you've wed,
So, make me a cuppa instead.
I should tell you I love you more,
That you're the one who I adore.
But I don't
-So I won't!
Flower of love
Love is a flower
with toes in the muck,
holds in its power,
hits like a truck.
When I fall in love
it will be for a minute.
For I know there ain't
any future in it.

It won't be long
until she says, with a frown,
"Why don't men
put the bloody lid down!"
A Good Sport
A studious sort,
She had no time for sport,
Or the chaps who showed sporting endeavour,
Till, discovering sex,
She discarded her specs,
And had a great time whensoever.
One night stand
The twirls of her skirt,
The thrill of a frill,
The girl was a flirt
But was over the hill.

The glint in his eye,
Suggestive the wink,
The silly old guy
Had had too much to drink.

The following morning,
Wakes up in a whole.
With reality dawning,
He is sick in the bowl.
Talking feet
A woman, with body curvaceous,
Had feet which were highly loquacious,
Till her husband, in bed
In his frustration said,
"Can't you shut the foot up!" Goodness gracious!
Sex Games
He popped it into her ear,
Which she found decidedly queer,
But when she'd mentioned oral,
He thought that she meant aural!

The Quaker
He married a Quaker,
He thought she'd said baker,
-Imagined fresh bread at her shop.
He reached for a bap,
Which earned him a slap,
"Before the fun starts," she said,"Stop!"
Love and Marriage
I am almost embarrassed to mention,
My wife's in receipt of a pension.
She was a young girl when I met her,
And every day, she gets better and better.

If we get to a hundred, of course,
I shall abandon all hope of divorce,
And if it's a hundred and ten,
We might even marry again!
Holding Hands
My granny and granddad held hands,
I saw them at Bolton-le-Sands.
Like an amorous mister and miss,
He bent down and gave her a kiss.
They looked absolutely in love,
Then he gave her a bit of a shove.

And she tumbled, without any fuss,
Straight under the Lancaster bus,
Which granny had never heard coming,
For granddad was too busy humming,
The tune of a little refrain,
It was Vera Lynn's, 'We'll meet again.'
Like a fast fading flower
that wilts, by the hour,
our love life could do with fresh water,
but you fight like a bull
and though life's not dull,
you never give me any quarter!
Honours U.K
You gave a hundred grand
to our political party.
May I shake your hand?
Arise, Sir Hale 'n' Hearty.

And you, my dear, an actor,
entertainment bourgeoisie,
a big deciding factor,
please take your MBE.

You work in public service,
in all weathers, never stop,
well, don't you look so nervous,
and here's a lollipop!
(wrong page!)
Oh well
Forty five years we've been wed
And it don't seem a day over forty,
We never had need of a bed,
You were sexy, and ever so naughty!

Now, it's all aids and false teeth,
Like a project that's got out of hand,
Never knowing quite what lies beneath,
As our hourglasses run out of sand.
Forgive and forget
I can
and will

I can
let live
and will
let live.

I can't
not quite,
not yet.
Food of love
when you depart
go overseas
you leave my heart
like melted cheese

on your return
to this fair coast
for you I'll burn
some honeyed toast
A kiss
I bent to give her a kiss
romantically, making to hug her.
she managed somehow to resist
and called me a sloppy old bugger!
When it comes my time to go,
I shall leave it all to you.

You're a lazy so and so,
You already flipping do!
Booze Cruisin'
A love-life oft hinges
on booze fueled binges,
the lure of those wine tinted glasses,
for without alcohol
there is no way at all
most people would dare to make passes.
First Love
That angelic face
monopolizing your dreams
could not be replaced
by a hundred ice creams.

When the school day is done
your hand round her waist,
all innocent fun
and in very good taste.

You woo her with gifts
of biscuits and sweets.
Oh how your heart lifts
when first your lips meet.

But soon she swaps places
for the new boy in class
and now she pulls faces
whenever you pass.
She seductively took off her clothes,
Her considerable charms to expose.
He was caught unawares
At the sight of her wares
And dropped on one knee to propose.
You're as crucial to me
as the hole in my Polo,
without who, you see
I'd be so low and solo!
She collected lovers
in a similar way that others
gathered ornamental cats,
Lalique glassware, table mats,
snuff boxes, candelabra,
oil paintings of french harbours,
thimbles, needles, pins,
old tools for making things.

Long dead, silver watches,
samplers and swatches,
diamonds, set in rings,
in fact, any little thing.
No requirement to walk
or even merely talk,
prepared for undercover,
then you could be her lover.
Girl talk
My girl talks baloney,
which is okay, if only
she'd pause now and then for a breath.
She has me in stitches,
like one of the witches,
the bad tempered one in Macbeth.
Wet play
A General Practitioner, fresh qualified,
Took his girl for a trip to the riverside.
Doing things they didn't oughta,
Both fell in the water,
The Doc, on a duck, most undignified.
Turning sour
Your love, my dear
is a fragrant rose,
full of dangerous thorns
which get up my nose!

You cheeky old pig,
it's a beating of hearts,
I want yours to stop
so that death do us part!
A prospect
I knew she was classy
when she lifted her skirt
and subtly, discreetly,
she sneaked a quick squirt.

Tattoos spelled correctly
seemed a promising sign,
only been once to rehab,
this girl could be mine.

Her several addictions
were all in the past
and with fines up to date,
we'd a romance could last.

She shaves every day,
has but one tiny flaw,
she's still wed to her third,
or did she say four?
Sound familiar?
Cup of coffee, darling?
No thanks. Occupied.
Response a little tetchy,
was that a roll of eyes?

Here it is, my dear!
What's this?
Your cup of tea,
make it yourself next time,
don't go asking me!

But it was me who asked you!
You must think me green,
next time you want a cuppa,
say what you bloody mean!
I desire fire,
to be wined and dined,
make passionate love,
blow my mind.

Your efforts
lack lustre,
don't pass muster.

I need
a roller coaster ride,
not a casual
bit on the side,
admiring the ceiling,
the paper that's peeling,
ancient lincrusta,
stuffed with linseed oil
and wood flour,
bittersweet, sour,
as the words which you shower
on me baby.

your dust,
I'm sick of your bluster,
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