A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
The Flu Jab
Oh, it's good to be alive
I'm really quite excited
At the age of sixty five
For my flu jab, I'm invited.
The nurse (Fat and gum-chewing)
Drew a target on my bum
Asked, "What do you think you're doing?"
Replied, "It's social distance chum."
My trembling arm she grabbed
And joked,"Don't worry matey
The last one that I stabbed
I scored the max, one eighty."
So, now I'm flu resistant
I should be feeling cool
But, Covid's more persistent
And I'm nobody's fool.
Dauphin (a bash at a serious sonnet)
Dauphin, my black dog
An animal who's very wise
Twelve years old, the saddest eyes
Unspoken canine dialogue.
In puppy-hood, we'd often jog
With mate, long dead, 'neath sunny skies
Or river swim, three great allies
Then rest beside the old marsh bog.
They say that wisdom comes with age
We mellow as we yet grow old
And folly is a thing of youth.
What can he teach, this canine sage?
I dread the thought of him grown cold
Am I too late to learn his truth?
My Hat Collection
Picking hats for my collection
My choice has been meticulous
I only wear them one at once
Or I would look ridiculous.
I'll start of with my baseball caps
I've collected five of these
Two were from sunny Australia
Where shade can hit forty degrees.
There's a cap from Canada's Bamf
Embroidered with proud Maple Leaf
Whilst one from our amis in France
Has the Eiffel Tower motif.
My golfing favourite was purchased
At the British Open event
Where Darren Clarke beat all the others
In sunshine, at Sandwich, in Kent.
So cheap is an old knotted hanky
It's one that I almost forgot
The sun can not get at my head
If it's cloudy, I fill it with snot.
A real Aussie bush hat from Perth
Is just the sartorial ticket
And a foldable one from Tasmania
Perfect for watching the cricket.
My fedora from M and S
I sport with an elegant style
And wearing my chequered flat cap
I look like the Duke of Argyle.
In winter the ear flaps come down
When cold snow and hail starts to fall
But my scary old balaclava
I find it the warmest of all.
Often a target for bullies
Not the handsomest kid in the shop
But over the last month or so
The teasing has come to a stop.
Now, I can join in with the others
"Why's that?" you might very well ask
Well, it's thanks to the outbreak of Covid
You see, I look great in a mask.
'Smoking kills,' Sally read on the packet
As she bent down to pick up her litter
So engrossed, she did not hear the racket
Of the thirty ton lorry that hit her.
Simon was famous on Facebook
Had hundreds of friends in his life
Yet no one he actually spoke to
No buddies, no girlfriend, no wife.
His success was repeated on Twitter
One million followers plus
But he came to a violent ending
Knocked down by the number nine bus.
The money he made from his adverts
Was left to his favourite quartet
And mum organised a huge funeral
For all of his friends on the net.
Though no one showed up, not a sausage
To see Simon the Superstar off
In reality, he was as popular
As a man with a bad Covid cough.
So, if you are an internet wizard
With a wit that's as sharp as a knife
Don't forget to engage with real people
Get up and get out, get a life.
The dozens of words and expressions
To describe what's a drunken condition
Makes me realise, being out of your tree
Is a time honoured human condition.
Drunk as a soldier, drunk as a sailor
Drunk as a Lord, drunk as a skunk
Drunk as a fiddler, drunk as a fart
Drunk as an owl, just plain drunk.
Bombed, bladdered, pissed
Smashed up, sewed up, tanked up
Flushed, tiddly, Brahms and Liszt.
Out of it, befuddled
Raddled, addled, primed, screwed
Happy, merry, muddled.
Boozed, tight, tipsy
Three sheets to the wind
Gaga, giggly, muzzy.
Search a synonym for sober though
The well is almost dry
A boring state to be in
So, "Cheers. Mud in your eye."
"You've been a really good boy
So here is what we'll do
You can have a brand new toy
Or, I'll take you to the zoo.
Johnny paused his keypad
Used to being admonished
This offer from his dad
Had left him quite astonished.
To Chester Zoo they travelled
Dad talked of birds and bees
Which left young Johnny baffled
"Can you explain it daddy please?"
"Watch the animals son
And the little things they do
When they are having fun
We humans do that too."
The young boy watched with care
He was always wide awake
The monkeys and a bear
A crocodile, a snake.
Creatures that were hairy
Some which made him laugh
The tigers, they were scary
And he loved the tall giraffe.
When the day was almost finished
Johnny knew what grown ups do
"Don't look much fun to me dad
Do I have to eat my poo?"
In happier days
Folk led a great existence
Now they deep clean
And keep their social distance.
My mum, and Covid
My mum has turned ninety, so I cannot go
And visit her care home, to just say "hello."
I can sell my house,to a stranger it seems
Or play golf in the park with the man of my dreams.
If I go to the shops, I keep six feet apart
But try telling that to the silly old fart
Who blocks up the aisle whilst he's choosing his bread
Move you old git, or I might end up dead.
I can't see my mum, and that really hurts
But we all have to act upon what the experts
Say is the best way to beat this disease
No, Mr Trump, don't blame the Chinese.
Every Thursday night then, I'll go out and clap
Our great N.H.S who deserve a backslap
For all their hard work, and when it's all done
I'll raise a glass of champagne, to my mum, ninety-one.
Cross Family Butchers
At Cross family butchers,our food is nutritious
And all of our meat is simply delicious
Burgers or sausages, steaks or a joint
Give us a try, we won't disappoint.
And as for your barbies.what better idea
Than out deal of the day washed down with cold beer.
"Chicken tikka sir?"
The waiter checked his jotter
"No, make mine a tarka.
I like a little 'otter."
Two right good mates
Meet up in a pub
They have a great time
And eat lots of grub.
They drink loads of beer
Then, needing a wee
They follow each other
It's normal, you see.
One says to the other
"This trough's a bit high."
"Mines longer," he said
"I'll give it a try."
Then he looks across
A girl's washing her hands
It's a sink, not a trough
Fast, he understands.
They've gone in the ladies
Instead of the gents
The lass does not laugh
Pays no complements.
Both so embarrassed
The two stop mid-pee
Then zip up their trousers
And giggling, they flee.
The memory is shot
Hands constantly shake
Am I losing the plot?
My joints always ache.
I've lost most of my teeth
And all of my hair
What lies underneath
That oft vacant stare?
A distant daydream
Of fond souvenirs
Or deaf as I seem
Just wax in my ears.
It's not by design
I accumulate ills.
I've turned infantine
On tablets and pills.
Lotions and potions
Towel and pad
Even my motions
Examined, how sad.
And as for the sex
Of those halcyon days
I'll just get my specs
And read what it says
On this bottle I've got
The writing's so small
What a load of old rot
Viagra cures all.
"My sirloin is tough."
"This wine's a bit rough."
"It's busy, I know
But service is slow."
"My soup's almost cold."
"This bread's five days old."
"Toilets are dirty."
"That waiter is shirty."
"Has B.O moreover."
"Shush, he's coming over."
"Ladies! Everything fine?"
"Yes thanks. Some more wine!"