Photo by neil kelly on
Medical Advice

When Doc prescribed me exercise,
Said, I should take up jogging,
My eyes dilated with surprise,
i thought that he'd said, dogging!

My missus said, he'd gone too far
And called the man, a queer stick.
Last time we did it in my car,
Played havoc with my gear stick!
Photo by Phil on
What was that?

Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust,
Life passes us by
Whilst we're earning our crust.
Photo by Bruno Scramgnon on

Emma Royd's piles
Were driving her wild,
Grapes of Wrath would be perfectly true,
She inserted a plum
To bung up her bum,
And now she's in Catch 22!
Photo by Burst on

Babies need a room to grow,
And ladies have all got 'em,
Big brother told me - he should know,
They fall, out of your bottom!
Photo by Thierry Fillieul on
The Rash

She developed an angry red rash
And was round at the doc's in a flash.
Not skirting the houses,
She was told, drop your trousers.
Examined then dressed,
The doc was impressed,
She'd contracted a virus,
Caught from papyrus.
Disapp it was called,
And the doctor recalled,
She could give her some cream
Which would sure make her scream,
Prescription was ointment,
She wrote, disapp ointment..
Photo by Pixabay on
A rewarding lunch

Me and the missus
Are doing the dishes.
I'm up to my elbows in suds,
She is wiping away,
When I hear her say.
"Afternoon delight, is for puds!
Photo by Pixabay on
Lucky Girl

Cauliflower, cabbage, copious greens,
Vindaloo, Bhuna, chicken Madras,
Mushy peas, fizzy pop, sprouts and baked beans,
Living with me girl, your life is a gas.
Photo by Gotta Be Worth It on
It's coming home

What I like about W.P
It's inclusive, I trust you agree,
Young lads getting racial abuse
For missed penalties! - No excuse!
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
Time management

Stop rushing around!
You will end in the ground.
Simply accept you are late
And don't get in a state.
Photo by Pixabay on
Sworn to protect

A young woman
Her whole life
In front of her.

A police officer
In the Met,
Sworn to serve
And protect.

A young woman
Her whole life
In front of her,
By a complete stranger.

by him,
a cop!
Who knows?
When will this stop?
Photo by Anthony Shkraba on
In praise of masks

We no longer need a mask!
So, "How do you feel?" did you ask?
Well, I'm gutted, it covered my nose,
Which sits rather large in repose.

Not to mention, my mostly black teeth
And the ones that are missing beneath,
Then, there's my acne and zits,
So, losing a mask is the pits.

Without a face mask, I am ugly,
But on put on right, fitting snugly,
Hides all my small imperfections,
And reduces my chance of rejection.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
NHS workers

Thank you for all your hard work,
And I know you expected a perk,
But were let down, which clearly is wrong,
So, Queen Liz has awarded a gong.
Photo by cottonbro on

Snuggled together
watching the screen,
one mind, two bodies,
nothing between.

Comfortable silence
built over time,
happy together,
love's paradigm.
Photo by Anugrah Lohiya on
The longest journey

A philosopher
Will tell you
The longest journey
Begins with
A single step,
Your longest journey
Begins with
Being held
By the ankles
Upside down
And naked
Smacked on the arse.
Photo by Kindel Media on

My memories are jumbled,
a fluid kaleidoscope
of images
as tangled
as that spaghetti crap 
they serve us in here.
Wherever here is!
I know it's not home.
Home is
where mum and dad live,
not here
where people wear pinnies
and masks
and ask silly questions.
'What have I had for breakfast?'
How the hell do I know!

it's me mum,
who the hell is Lucy,
and who is mum?
I want my mum,
and my dad.
Let what's-her=name
find her own parents.
Bloody cheek.
And photos!
If anyone else
shows me any more photographs
of strangers,
I swear
I will smash the place up,
Bloody morons!

Lucy darling?
Is that you?
Photo by cottonbro on

When death
is a looked forward to
release from pain,
then mortality
almost humane.
Photo by NEOSiAM 2021 on
Just Desserts

He had lots of previous
Mostly for grievous,
The guy was a real piece of work,
But the woman he chose
Was a murderer called Rose,
Now, he sleeps in the ground, at the kirk.
Photo by Pixabay on
A government announcement

This virus has long overrun,
So, we are limiting weddings to one,
It may prove an unpopular course,
But will also cut down on divorce.
Photo by cottonbro on
A good night's sleep

When you're in need of a kip,
Then imagine a skip,
And throw all your problems therein.
You will sleep trouble free
Until seven twenty-three,
And wake up as sharp as a pin.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
Desperate Dan

Desperate Dan
Bought a frying pan
As a gift for his gran,
Silly old man.
She hit him with it!
Photo by Judita Tamou0161iu016bnaitu0117 on

It's not my wheelchair
That makes me disabled,
But the way the world's built
And designed for enabled.
Photo by Pixabay on
Those tiny brushes

This interdental brush
Endorsed by dentist chap,
An hour to clean my teeth,
It's absolutely crap!
Photo by Cedric Fauntleroy on
Medical Staff

A physio called Fizz
And a doctor named Liz
Had a steamy and passionate affair.
The poor NHS
Paid for states of undress
Any time, any place, anywhere.
Photo by Frans Van Heerden on
Ear, ear

This last couple of years
I've been grateful for ears,
Without which you see,
There'd be no masks for me.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
Thank You

Here I am God, as requested
Ancient body tried and tested.
Skin unblemished, virgin state,
No tattoos at any rate.
I can not lie, I've had a hoot,
Returned with thanks, my birthday suit.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
I beg your pardon

A jingle in each ear
Is what I love to hear,
When hearing aids go in,
It proves there's life within!
Photo by Pranidchakan Boonrom on

Big confab,
Had my jab.
More like stab,
Beats a slab.
Photo by Pixabay on

When someone hurts us,
Really hurts us,
We don't forget,
But we must learn
To forgive,
For if we don't
We never move forward
As a person
A country
A race
Or a species.
Photo by Hugo Heimendinger on
Bloody Covid!

Planned April twenty twenty-one
Australia to see my son.
Fortieth birthday, surprise treat,
Not aware, so act discreet.
Two years in, Covid's not done,
Postpone to Christmas twenty-one.
Aussies keep their borders shut,
Situation, now clear cut.
Staying closed till twenty-two
Christmas next will have to do!

A small, small world, we used to say,
But suddenly, he's far away.
I'll have to wait for that big hug,
A victim of that wretched bug.
At least we're here, so can't complain
A lot won't see loved  ones again.
Those who come through live and kicking
Be thankful that your clock's still ticking.
Next time you, your loved ones see
Give them an extra hug, from me.
Photo by Kampus Production on
Nightcap at the nursing home

I'm getting aroma of honeyed oak,
Licorice root, campfire smoke,
Bursting with ripe red berries,
Strawberries, raspberries, cherries.
Exotic spices from places far flung,
Smooth as ice cream on my tongue.

Hints of vanilla, molasses,
Sophisticated, not for the masses.
A nose like a Roman empire,
Aftertaste, warm winter fire.
Gorgeously good, liquid silk.
Shut up you old fool! Drink your milk.
Photo by Marcus Aurelius on

From girl
With her head full of dreams,
To woman,
Her head full of screams.
From pushchair
To wheelchair
In the blink of an eye.
At the dusk of discovery
And still I ask
Photo by Anna Tarazevich on
Over promise, under deliver

Saturday the place was closed,
Why Saturday? - God only knows.
Monday morning, back again,
Same every month, they are a pain.

This time I phone, and yes, it's done,
So down I go -No, they're wrong.
Could I maybe call again, this aft?
Look mate, you are having a laugh.

Later that day, call once more,
None of my drugs in the store!
They can deliver, two days (perhaps),
Sorry pal, your service is crap!
Photo by RODNAE Productions on
A chat with my maker

I hate my nose, God,
It's way, way too big,
And my pale pink skin
Makes me look like a pig.

You need a large nose
To hold up your glasses.
Would you rather you had
A skin like molasses?

Black would be great,
I've no prejudice.
But four foot eight tall
Are you taking the piss?

I save my dark skin
For the people I like
And as for your size,
Well. how big's your bike?

I know that you're busy
With the millions you make,
One thing I detest,
Is the way my hands shake.

That's a small error,
Quality control,
No way it affects
The life in your soul.

Talking of which,
How long have I got,
Before popping my clogs
And starting to rot?

I can't be exact,
It's only a hunch,
All I would say is
Enjoy a good lunch.
Photo by Gratisography on
One Way

Life's a one way street,
A dead end cul-de-sac,
And when the road's complete,
There is, no turning back.
Photo by Denafi Sy on
Sweet Dreams

Good night, night, night,
Mind those bed bugs don't bite.
Little darling, sleep tight.
Creeps down, turns off light.

Bed bugs that bite!
Eyes wide in fright,
Imagines a sprite,
Huge teeth, yellow-white.

In the gloomy twilight,
His fear at it's height,
Scared stiff, sits upright,
And screams out, forthright.

His mother, contrite,
Explains that bedbugs don't bite
And the calmed little mite,
Gets a teddy. Delight!

Photo by NEOSiAM 2021 on
Golden Years

Now I've gotten hairier,
I'm not a kid, instead,
These days, a soft play area
Is what goes on, in bed.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
Medical  Advice

If ever, in the future,
You have to have a suture,
Be sure, the nurse who stitches,
Has not a hand that twitches.
Photo by Thirdman on

It's not the cocktail of chemicals,
Or the loss of hair,
The sickness,
The knowing stare.

It's not the radiation,
The misplaced sense of shame,
The indignity,
Or even the pain.

It's the fact that it's you,
That's the reality,
And coming to terms
With your own mortality.
Photo by Nishant Aneja on
 The power of positivity

Don't look so glum, chum.
Turn up the dial, smile.
Give us a grin, Lynne.
Let go that smirk, Kirk.
It's okay to crow, Joe.
How 'bout a cheer, dear?
Go for that laugh, Araf.
Love that snigger, tigger.

Throw me a chuckle, Huckle.
Share your top titter, Twitter.
Let's hear the guffaw, Thor.
Enjoy a good giggle, Piggle.
Don't be so fickle, tickle.
Show that you're mortal, chortle.
Don't get depressed, Tes.
Life is for fun, hon.
Treating People Properly

The chap was over a hundred
Found that people were kind all the time.
It should've been sooner he wondered,
Now that, is a nice paradigm.
Photo by Alexander Mils on
The Inheritance

Tenderly, they hugged each other,
Grieving for their dying mother.
Sibling rivalry forgotten.
In their quest for gains, ill gotten.
Photo by RODNAE Productions on
The Hospice

I envy the dead,
they already know
that secret we dread,
when it's our time to go.

I envy the dead,
a strange way to feel,
a thought in my head,
no time left to heal.

A heaven or hell,
or simply big sleep.
We don't get to tell,
it's secrets we'll keep.

Soon, no need to guess
if I've been misled,
by religion, oh yes,
I envy the dead.
Photo by Kat Jayne on
For the one hundred and eighteen 

Oppression by
Men in
Takes away lives,

Violently murdered,
Innocent women.
Over one hundred
Every year.
Photo by Pavel Danilyuk on
The Burial

A sign of their meanness,
Or nod to his greenness.
They carried him off in
A used cardboard coffin.
Photo by Pixabay on

Spiders, snakes, irrational fear,
Can hold us back, and be severe.
Fear of public speaking, talking
To a crowd, or fear of walking
Open spaces, confined spaces.
Fear of people, fear of faces.
Fear of losing someone dear,
Scared of what our loved ones hear.

Scared to venture, scared to try,
Scared of water, scared to fly.
Deep, dark places, dizzy heights,
Anything can give us frights.
Ridicule, fear of rejection,
Anything, upon reflection.
Fear is human, that's no lie,
Can cripple us, can make us cry.
We need to conquer it, aim high,
Pocket fear, reach for the sky.
Photo by Flickr on
Getting on a bit

What I'd like to know,
Now that I'm getting on,
Where my get up and go
Has got up and gone.

Before, I could flirt
Though now when I smile
At owt in a skirt
They assume I'm senile.
Photo by Pixabay on
The Inland Revenue letter

Dear Mr Hobbo,
Here is your pension,
on receipt of which
it is timely to mention,
the rules that forbid
you a normal sex life,
when according to info
received from your wife,
you are still fairly active,
which as you can see,
is clearly forbidden
in para. three C.

Now you've retired
please accept at your age
that there is no employment,
even minimum wage.
So put up your feet,
and turn on the TV,
savour your cocoa,
between you and me,
I am jealous to bits,
and holding back tears,
because I've still to work
for the next forty years.
Photo by Magda Ehlers on
Here we go again

You used to talk to me, and bring me flowers.
You would listen. We'd make love for hours.

Hours, who you kidding. I could soft boil the eggs.
It's a bit of a turn-off, fat hairy legs.

How can you talk, with all that up your nose.
It helps hide the stink of the smoke on your clothes.

What bloody cheek, you smell like the cat.
You moody old mare, you vicious old bat.

Listen at old Mr Grumpy himself.
Cheeky sod, go take a look at yourself.

Well, another love filled end to the year.
Oops I forgot. Happy Anniversary, my dear.
Photo by Harshi Rateria on
End of life care

She was ninety two,
and incontinent.
by blinking
her wish to expire.
She died alone,
and in agony,
when a God
she no longer believed in
decided she could.

He was very old,
way past his prime.
Lost his zest for life.
No quality of life.
Surrounded by loved ones,
he was 
put to sleep
with dignity,
by the vet.
Photo by Jeremy Wong on
Royal Marriages

I've been married for fourty four years,
And I don't go a bothering you.
Stay out of the media then, my dears,
It's the least little thing you can do.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
The Yorksher Blues

My rhubarb won't grow, it's the wrong kind of soil.
My moped is slow, and my car's leaking oil.
My snake ate my cake, so now she can't coil.
My new metal kettle, has melted, won't boil.
I'm bluer than my tattoos,
I've got me those Yorksher blues.

My dog's chewed my clogs, and he's spewed on the floor.
My cat's run away with the tomcat next door.
My sister's a mister, whose wife is a whore.
I'm a medical miracle close to death's door.
I'm bluer than my tattoos,
I've got me those Yorksher blues.

My missus insists, she won't leave, don't ask why?
I know that her beau is a really nice guy.
I have seen, she is keen, and I can't tell a lie,
Just leave me alone, in my home, and I'll die.
I'm bluer than my tattoos,
I've got me those Yorksher blues.
Photo by Lisa Fotios on
A timekeeping bargain

A pain in the crotch
Life, where does it go?
With our time travel watch
You can go fast, or slow.

Set it to your own pace,
Even temporary stop.
The deluxe, will retrace,
So your clogs never pop.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
The morning after

A pass at the glass, and I know I'm in trouble.
Red road maps my eyes, out of focus as Hubble.
I can't raise a grin, scratchy skin full of stubble.
Last night, it felt right. It was hell of a party.
Six shots on the trot, tried to prove me a smarty.
I should have said no, but I had to have doubles,
To drink like a fish, with a fistful of bubbles.

This morning, I'm yawning, but I've work in an hour.
Heads a shed, feet like lead, as I crawl in the shower.
Whisky breath, I am death, with a tongue tasting sour.
Soap, does its work, as I splash it all over.
Can't face any food, but I'll beat this hangover.
Laughter, day after? No, I'm dull, done for, dour
No great loss. I'm the boss. I'm the guy with the power.
Photo by Daria Shevtsova on

Transient as
a wet tyre track
on sunwarmed tarmac.
Fleeting as
the first snow of winter.
Evanescent as
electricity in a battery.
Transitory as
the twin towers.
Ephemeral as
early morning dew.
Short lived as
a shooting star.
Cursory as
a nod from a stranger.

Invaluable as
a Picasso painting.
Dear as
a diamond anniversary.
Inestimable as
insects on earth.
Precious as
your new born baby.

We have only one
and it melts in the sun.
Photo by Cedric Fauntleroy on
The Nurse

Her frail body
clutched at the
crisp cotton sheets.
I mopped her brow.

Her lungs gasped,
fighting for air.

Her tiny hand
squeezed mine
as I bent down
to hear what she said.

Don't let me die, nurse,
she whispered.

The ventilator
was ineffective.
The drugs
were not working.

I gave her
all that I had.
I gave her
my love.
It was not enough.
Old age pensioner

Today, I get O.A.P status
A tribute to my apparatus.
It's downhill from here,
After sixty six year,
My hernia is at a hiatus.
Photo by Jimmy Chan on

Grocer Jack
In cul-de-sac
Head full of smack
Tripped on a crack
On his way back
From the 'Duck with no Quack'.

This maniac
Was taken aback
Fell with a whack
Causing crise cardiaque.
Revived with a snack
And a double cognac
From a girl in a sack
Whose dad was named Jack.
Photo by Luis Dalvan on
These Hands

These hands
have deprived a man of his liberty,
saved a babies life.

These hands
helped to drown my troubles
put food on the family table.

These hands
buried my parents
held my new born son.

These hands
inspired loyalty
betrayed a trust.

These hands committed sin
prayed for forgiveness.

These hands 
fought for my life
made sweet love.

These hands
have written eulogies
created poetry.

These hands
are human.
They make mistakes,
But they are my hands.
Photo by RODNAE Productions on
You were a tender lover

You were a tender lover,
Attentive, thoughtful, kind.
Why would I want another?
The last thing on my mind.

It was a whirlwind romance,
Two short months, then wed.
Didn't really get the chance
To hear what others said.

Then, the violence started,
Subtle, but my fault.
Should've left, departed,
Called a stop, a halt.

You hit me, yet you love me,
Well how perverse is that?
You're jealous of the fellers
I see behind your back.

It's only drink that's talking,
Makes you resort to force.
Why then, are you stalking,
If you don't want divorce.

The sorry that comes after,
The crappy bunch of flowers.
You shrug it off with laughter,
And say that love is ours.

Tonight, another beating,
Broken bones and worse
But, it's my fault for cheating,
"Say nothing to the nurse."

In 'A and E', I'm treated,
I tripped, fell down the stairs.
Behind the lies retreated,
From their suspicious stares.

Cops try to prosecute you
And I refuse to press.
Off we go, the loving two,
To more cheap flowers, I guess.

You crossed a line this evening,
One last, one final time,
As the ambulance is leaving,
I gasp, arrest, flat-line.

I hit you, cos I love you
Didn't mean to use the knife
Now, you've gone and ruined
My sad, self-centred life.
Photo by Pixabay on
My Engine

When I was younger
I'd go for a spin.
So great was my hunger,
I'd drive to Berlin.

As I got older,
Hand on my heart,
The engine was colder,
I'd need a bump start.

The motor got mucky,
First starts, then it stops.
Sometimes I'd be lucky
To get to the shops.

Now, seized and rusty,
Where once it all shone,
My tried and my trusty
Has got up and gone.
Photo by Pixabay on

The king is dead, long live the king
So those heraldic angels sing.
Here lies he, in princely state,
Mortal man, to whom his fate,
Death that leveler of us all,
Cares not for goods, for wherewithal.

No difference makes, for rank, or status.
Keeps for each, this forced hiatus.
What use now those jewels, that wealth?
Lost is that youth, that life, that health.
Our time is precious, borrowed must
Be handed over. We to dust.
Photo by Pixabay on
The Medical

There's snow on the hills
And I've taken my pills.
The psychiatrist thinks me quite sane.
The pigs in the sky,
Yes I know they can't fly,
But they're taking a test just the same.

The voice in my head
That is never quite dead,
Is singing a sad kind of ditty.
I try to write songs
Yet they come out all wrong,
All clangers and smash, more's the pity.

I've got an IQ
Of a hundred and two,
Which puts me, ahead of a half-wit.
I'm friends with the Queen
And my washing machine,
But give me a dollar, I'd halve it.

I live on the moon
With an ageing baboon
Who is wanted in five different countries.
My favourite meal
Is strawberry peel
Which I harvest each autumn from plum trees.

The doc's here again.
She insists, I am sane.
She has the last laugh, no disputing.
The stupid old lush,
I'm as daft as a brush.
Speak to my grandma, Rasputin.

Tick-Tock, round the clock,
I need a new frock.
Tear drop, splobalop, I am barmy.
Boogaloo bongos, 
Dingos and drongos,
I don't want to play in your army.
Photo by Chris J Mitchell on

These bones of mine
Are bone idle.
They never move a muscle.

I get on fine
With nerves, I find
But they're a real opuscle.

I could fall out,
Say bones, get out
Get veritably stroppy.

But I suppose
Without them bones,
I'd be a body floppy.
Photo by cottonbro on

My lockdown locks are really, truly
Wild, disheveled, long, unruly.
Scruffy, fluffy, dizzy, frizzy,
In the way when I am busy.

Hairdressing, classed non-essential,
Even Barnets presidential
Are growing, flowing, running wild,
Awkward as a naughty child.

What I'd give to have it cut
Smart again, so I could strut
Down the high street, head held high,
Bien coiffé, a butterfly.

Bien coiffé, well groomed hair
Barnet, UK slang for hair
Photo by cottonbro on
It's not enough

To hope
that we are more tolerant
than our parents.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.

To hope
that the planet
will not succumb
to global warming.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.

To hope
that justice
will be done.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.

To hope
a brighter future.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.

To hope that
will change.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.
Photo by Mitja Juraja on
Hell's Kitchen

Beelzebub, the Devil
Searched for souls to roast
he put them in his Breville
And cooked beings on toast.
Photo by Anna Shvets on
Another Lockdown Ditty

It's hard to be inspired
Whilst we're in lockdown mode
I'm getting rather tired
Of treading that same road.

But when lockdown is over
There'll be no stopping me
Like a honeybee in clover
I'll have so much to see.
Photo by Pixabay on
The Pharmacy

Queued for an hour
Quite in distress
Needing my tablets
To help me de-stress.

Along comes an addict
For Methadone say
Knocks at a side door
Is seen straight away.

Now if I were a chemist
Between me and you
Other people come first
And the junkies could queue.
Photo by Pixabay on

Do you borrow money, or are you a lender
Are you a hoarder, or a flashy big spender
Save it, or crave it, spend the lot on a bender
Blow all on a posh frock, regardless of gender?

Are you living in poverty, scraping away
Trying your best to survive on just one meal a day
Or, like Midas, does all that is gold come your way
And, rich as Croesus, is it nothing but play?

Is money your God, do you pray at its altar
Do you value friends, or is this where you falter
Your be all, and end all, your reason for being
If something is missing, what are you not seeing?

Yes it's love, it is love, it's what makes the world spin
And when you are in love, then it should be win-win
There is no substitute for the love in your life
Be it children or lovers (or even your wife)!
Photo by ATC Comm Photo on

Two billion each
lub-dub, lub-dub
From cradle to grave
lub-dub, lub-dub
Tender as peach
lub-dub, lub-dub
Worn as a cave
lub-dub, lub-dub

You've stolen mine
lub-dub, lub-dub
Broken in two
lub-dub, lub-dub
Sad celandine
lub-dub, lub-dub
My final tattoo
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on
Things to do lists

His, during covid lockdown
1.  Shave
2.  Shower
3.  Fed
4.  Watch telly
5.  Bed

Hers, during covid lockdown
1.  Clean
2.  Cook
3.  Wash
4.  Shop
5.  Vac
6.  Dust
7.  Iron
8.  Drop

His, after covid lockdown
1.  Get shave
2.  Get shower
3.  Get fed
4.  Watch telly
5.  Go to bed

Hers, after covid lockdown
1.  Buy a season ticket, can they survive the drop?
2.  Jimmy Choo's size seven, from that designer shop.
3.  Book foreign holiday, in Italy or Spain.
4.  Ring up Bob the Builder, to fix that window pane. 
5.  Meet my friends for coffee, a catch-up, and a chat.
6.  Renew my gym subscription, got to lose this fat.
7.  Take my mother shopping, but must be M and S.
8.  Judy could come with us, and pick herself a dress.
9.  New nail bar in Blackburn, it's doing two for one.
10.  While I'm being pampered, I'll have my Barnet done.
11.  Join local theatre group, for social intercourse.
12.  Tell my useless husband, I'm filing for divorce. 

M and S, Marks and Spencers, a UK shop
Barnet, cockney rhyming slang for hair.
Photo by Kaboompics .com on
Be careful what you wish for

Brexit hogs the headlines
Brexit every day
Brexit with it's deadlines
Please make it go away.

Covid's killed so many
Randomly it slew
What I'd give for any
Piece of Brexit news.
Photo by Daniel Reche on

She joined the ramblers club
A group for gentle walking
Mistakenly believing
They met, for non stop talking.
Photo by cottonbro on
My sensitive senses

I have five senses
So I'm told
Which function less
As I grow old.

I'm deaf without my
Hearing aids
And use thick specs
As sight degrades.

My taste relies on
My false teeth.
For touch, my skull
has things beneath.

These stop me shaking
Which leaves smell
Best ask my wife
She's sure to tell.
Photo by Flo Dahm on
Peg leg Pete

Of my two legs
I've but one good un',
The other peg
Is false, it's wooden.

If I'd to choose
The artificial
Holds more booze.

In Winter time
It's good as gold
Come frost or rime
It's never cold.

I see a brawl
I'm off, I hop it
So, all in all
I wouldn't swap it.

Photo by Anni Roenkae on
Just do it

are as unique
as a flake of snow
equally ethereal.

Live now
fully, quickly
that melt-water.

Not tomorrow
it may not

do it
that metaphorical
Coincidence or Consequence

Fat woman orders
super-sized meal.
Coincidence or consequence?

Drug addict
sleeps on park bench.
Coincidence or consequence?

Lottery winner
desperately lonely.
Coincidence or consequence?

Child abuser
raped in jail.
Coincidence or consequence?

dies at desk.
Coincidence or consequence?

not trusted.
Coincidence or consequence?

Non judgmental people
live happier lives.
Coincidence or consequence?
Transient as a train timetable

Babies have potential
Though don't yet know their fate
And adults are but children
Beyond their best by date.

We look into the future
Yet dwell upon the past
But life is here, right now
And it's not meant to last.

Photo by Lay Low on
Winning the lottery

I'm more than delighted
Extremely excited
Shout it out? No, I could yelp it!
I am over the moon
And I shouldn't croon
Honestly, I can not help it.

I can now break the rules
It's like winning the pools
Buying myself a home brew kit.
I am king of the hill
I'm top of the bill
I really am going to milk it.

Christmas and birthday
Rolled up into one day
Lucky! I can not believe it!
The call said, get there
They had vaccine to spare
I've beaten that Covid, achieved it!
Photo by Natasha Spencer on
The best diet ever

Revolutionary guillotine diet
One hundred percent verify it
Is sure to delight
Will cut appetite
Cause instant weight loss
With no need to floss
A rip off, it ain't
Not a single complaint.
Photo by Gilberto Olimpio on
An Elegy

Here fly the ashes
of Hobbo the Poet.
Life's clock had stopped
before he could slow it.

Elegy written
in case he got ill.
Nothing to leave you
don't look for a will.
Photo by NEOSiAM 2021 on
Friday night fatality

Blue lights.
Fist fights.
Fast cars.
Packed bars.
Shrill two-tones
Broken bones.
to A and E.
Bare flesh teaser.
Pavement pizza.
Takeaway smells good.
Busted nose spits blood.
Glance wrong, teenage spat.
What you's looking at?
Vicious looking flick knifes.
Liberated housewives.
Atmosphere electric.
Not again, she's been sick.
Need a leak, take a piss.
All week, work for this.
Feel ill, too much drink.
Bog full, piss in sink.
Cops here, take names.
Stiff them, play games.
Now feeling ill.
I pop a pill.
Final sup.
All fucked up.
Thumping head.
Some guys dead.
All flee
Shit's sake
It's me...

Photo by Monica Silvestre on
This is not a rehearsal

The grazing cow, the harvest mouse
Fear not, the blood red slaughterhouse.
When first a dog looks on your face
She looks for love, not creed or race.

The giant crab or basking skate
They worry not about their fate.
Foresight, it's the curse of man
To know that there's no master plan.

This fear of life, to us unique
Curtails our dreams and makes us weak.
Ephemeral as our beans on toast
Shed those shackles, lay that ghost.
Photo by Nita on
Excuse Me!

Natural, but unsociable
are those ill-disciplined
enough to think acceptable
to let loose their trapped wind.
Photo by Pranidchakan Boonrom on
Our cunning plan

No procrastination!
Even if you disagree
Please get your vaccination
For we have no great 'plan B'.
Photo by Pixabay on

My old man is lying here
I visit him, but once a year
Twenty years this blokes been dead
And still he's messing with my head.

Parents nurturing and kind
for me a joke, they screw your mind
I'm not like them,and God forbid
That I should ever hurt the kids.

Am I any better though?
Ask my boys, for I don't know.
Photo by Ekrulila on
The Exemption Certificate

This is to certify that the holder of this certificate is exempt from

Work related exertions;
manual or retail
or office bound with email.

health, wealth, finance
family or romance.

financial or property
snubs to abject poverty.

Physical activities;
Everything in real life
Anything but still life.

I further certify that the owner of this certificate is dead.
Evan Chewly
Photo by Nithin PA on
You're having a laugh!

A problem, I had
I was losing my grip
Visit the toilet
Then, permanent drip,

You're having a laugh!
Come on, don't deny it.
Urologist grinned
Just try it, just try it.

When you are finished
before you re-dress
Reach behind goolies
Between your legs, press.

It works every time
Don't know why, don't know how
And who really cares?
I've got dry undies, now!
Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich on
Photo by Pixabay on
Hidden abuse


Photo by Kat Jayne on

The silence
of a life cut short
tragically, too brief.

The silence
of a bereaved mum
overwhelmed with grief.

The silence
of the couple
lost in their own thoughts.

The silent 
tear she sheds
when he asks for divorce.

The silent
look of horror
before that bomb explodes.

The silent
sign she gives
as she steps into the road.

Those silent
games they played
that went beyond pretend.

This silence
is forever
no beginning and no end.

Photo by Skitterphoto on
Who are you?

Do you see the brilliance of the diamond
  or notice the dust on the skirting board?

Do you hear the birds singing in the trees
  or the harassed woman screaming at her kids?

Do you taste the rounded flavour of the wine
  or the bitter tannins in the alcohol beneath?

Do you touch the ones you love, with tenderness
  or hit out at those who hurt you?

Do you smell the fresh cut grass on a spring lawn
  or the odour of dogs who have made their presence known?

Do you view the countryside in all its glory
  or see the litter thrown thoughtlessly away?

Do you hear a choir of angels in the morning
  or joints complaining as you cry yourself to sleep?

Do you taste the lightness of the pastry
  or does the sour taste of failure haunt your mouth?

Do you touch each moment with a thank you
  or do you feel that hand of fickle fate?

Do you smell the flowers in your garden
  or the scent of time that's passed you by?

Do you love life what'er the situation
  or suffer life and take your medication?
Photo by Julie Viken on
May affect less than 1 in 10

Eye pain or rainbow vision!
Intermittent, blurring vision!

Yellow eyes or yellow skin!
Constipation! Vomiting!

Drowsiness and sleepiness!
Dizzyness or shakiness!

Trouble with my flexion!
Problems with erection!

Weight loss! Weight gain!
Blocked nose and bladder pain!

Difficulties sleeping!
Changes in my speaking!

Hair loss! Milk loss!
Telling folk to get lost!

Tinnitus! Convulsions!
Rashes or confusion!

Numbness! Tingling!
Fear of social mingling!

Sensitive to sunlight!
Wet bed! Is that right?

Such a wide variety
Has brought on my anxiety!

Prescribed me by my doc
These pills leave me in shock!
Photo by mali maeder on
Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

Cowardly killer, dubbed number nineteen
Despicable, your sick form of roulette
Mindless bug, reaping death, obscene.

We'll wash our hands,we'll fight you clean
Whilst there is hope, we are not beaten yet
Cowardly killer, dubbed number nineteen.

So many bodies, it's almost routine
Shadowy form, with no silhouette
Mindless bug, reaping death, obscene.

Perverted agenda, to kill human beings
Fresh strains now to aid and abet
Cowardly killer, dubbed number nineteen.

Locked down again, stuck, quarantine
Not beaten though, you're a martinet
Mindless bug, reaping death, obscene.

We'll whup your arse with the new vaccine
What use then, is your global threat
Cowardly killer, dubbed number nineteen
Mindless bug, reaping death, obscene.
Photo by Tembela Bohle on
Gerry Marsden, how did you do it?

His ferry has finally crossed
His dreams are all tossed and blown
Though the fans on the Kop may be lost
Gerry, you will never walk alone.
Gerry Marsden MBE, lead singer of Gerry and the
Pacemakers has died at the age of 78.  The
group had several hits including, 'How do you do it?'
'Ferry, Cross the Mersey' and 'You'll never walk alone'.
'You'll never walk alone' became a football terrace anthem for the kop of his hometown club, Liverpool. RIP.

Kop, the name for the home supprter's terrace
 at Liverpool FC
Photo by on
Black Clouds

Woke up.
Didn't want to.
In a foul mood.
Another resolution
Challenged God
to take me.
Didn't work.
Head thumping.
Limbs trembling.
Feel awful.
Don't think so.
More like
Drag myself up.
Walk/crawl to bathroom.
Head bowed.
Let me die.
Please God!
I hate hangovers.
Photo by Anna Shvets on
New Covid Rules

Snow White
is in Tier 4
and according
to the law
can only bubble
with one chappie
and he's a dwarf
but he is Happy!
Photo by Tina Nord on
RIP Pierre

Monsieur Cardin
Popped les clogs
Il est dans le jardin
Avec ses chiens

Designer Cardin
Popped his clogs
He is in the garden
With his dogs.

Dauphy: Pierre Cardin, the colourful French designer has died?

Hobbo: Yesterday.

Dauphy: Very sad. Popped les clogs! That’s not French!

Hobbo: No, but it’s funny.

Dauphy: You think so? I have my reputation to think about. Popped les clogs!

Photo by on
We found a cure!

She worked day after day and with vigour
Selfless unstinting and tireless
To stop radios being de rigueur
And cure the disease, 'Own a Wireless.'

Photo by Pixabay on
Tomato Soup

As the whole of the ward
Grew redder and redder
Doc wrote in his notes
Tom's a Heinz Souper Spreader.
Photo by Lucas Guimaru00e3es on
What's in a name?

Arsenal star Martinelli
Had hair styled by fan, Marty Nelly
Mildly amusing
What's really confusing
Their tattooist of choice, Martin Ellie.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
What makes you think I'm deaf?

Your lunch is ready!
Freddie, who is Freddie?

It's lunch, it's on the table!
Mabel, when did you see Mabel?

Do you want to eat or not?
Ah, now you call me clot!

God, this is sooo frustrating!
Whaddya' mean, I need castrating?

Put your flipping aids in!
You're rooting for a Saints win?

Where did I go wrong?
Can I sing a song?

Jeez, I've had enough!
I heard that, I'm not deaf!

You hear when you've a hard on!
That's rude, I heard that, pardon?
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
The health check

You need to cut down on the fags old man
Forty a day is too many
Reducing to twenty would be a good start
Though really, you shouldn't have any.

I'll just check your blood pressure now, if I may
My, my, that's a hundred and forty
If you weren't a key worker, I'd put you on sick
Your whole way of life is so naughty.

You are heading towards diabetic
With all those mince pies that you eat
And alcohol isn't a staple
When you have it, it should be a treat.

I'll give you a jab for the virus
But, be careful, should not go unsaid
And once your deliveries are finished
I suggest that you go back to bed.

That's the end of your annual check up
I hope you pay heed to my banter
Your lifestyle must alter completely
Or next year, there will not be a Santa.
Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on
Bye Bye Barbara

Dame Barbara Windsor's gone
It's such a Carry On
Star of soap's Eastenders
Her giggly grin befriends us
So true, and in the end though
We'll miss her innuendo.

Actress Dame Barbara Windsor, 
star of Carry On films, 
and UK soap opera Eastenders, 
died today aged 83. RIP

Photo by Pixabay on

"Has my son's arm been broken?"
She sought their expert views
The doctor, quietly spoken
Said, "Yes, it's breaking news."
Photo by Mike on
Where is he?

Here lies a coffin
Full of old bricks
Harry Houdini
Played one of his tricks.

Photo by Thirdman on

Listen here Covid 19
We've got a brand new vaccine
You may feel that you've got your charms
But we're having shots in our arms.
Photo by Brett Sayles on

Here lies the body
Of little Big Ears
Murdered by Noddy
And bullied for years.

Photo by cottonbro on

your first thought
in a morning
every morning
before your eyes
are even open
is shit
I'm alive

Now try
and move on
from there.
It's exhausting.

Photo by Mike on
RIP Mike

Here lies the body
Of motorist Mike
Doing a ton
And forgot to think bike.
Photo by Anna Shvets on

a state of mind
on nothing
a state of mind.
Photo by Mike on
RIP Jennifer

Here lies the body
Of Jennifer Dyer
Nylon nightie
Met open fire.

Photo by Mike on
RIP Mabel

Here lies the body
Of Mabel Moon
Misread the label
As tablespoon.
Photo by Lina Kivaka on

Autumn's reached, now we've retired
Athletes shot, who've run their race
No need for claims that we're inspired
At work, not told to watch our place.

For forty years we've done our share
We put our shoulders to the plough
No more mortgage, no more care
It's time for some enjoyment now.

Kids are gone, we've scraped some savings
We even get our pensions paid
Shall we now indulge our cravings
Spend this little pot we've made.

A cottage would be great, but face it
We haven't got enough my dear
A brand new car, so Scamp can chase it
Frivolous, I hear you sneer.

We've talked at length, discussion's done
Ambitious plans, and things beneath
It's not a holiday in the sun
It's hearing aids and brand new teeth.
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on
My Body

I don't like my ears, I hate my nose
My weight, my face, my hair, my tum
My voice, my hands, my knees, my toes
But I quite admire my bum.
Photo by Helena Lopes on
Greedy girl

She ate a considerable eyeful
A veritable tower of trifle
Got cramps in her belly
From all that red jelly
Which the greedy girl struggled to stifle.
Photo by Magda Ehlers on

It might cause ringing
But let's face facts
What is so lyrical
About ears full of wax.
Photo by Kate Amos on
A Spectacle

Eyes, the window to our soul
But glasses let me see the hole
into which I nearly fell
Where's my specs, oh bloody hell!
Photo by Dominique Nelson-Esch on
Hurry Up!

Dinner's on the table
Frustration in that shout
Be down in just a minute
The turtle's head's popped out.
Photo by Jeswin Thomas on

human company
until we are lonely.
Photo by Ami Suhzu on
He made his appearance one Tuesday
Supposedly child full of grace
The lad had hung on for a day
Because Monday is child fair of face.

Born in the year 1950
To a mum who was very contented
She swaddled her son in a bin bag
Lucky boy, they had just been invented.

The new I.P.A had been formed
That's the thing for police not the beer
Shirley Temple announced her retirement
So it promised to be a good year.

The Archers began in that year
Uruguay had won the World Cup
And what with the birth of young Tony
Things were generally thought on the up.

A new comic, The Eagle, was published
For boys with its hero Dan Dare
Billy Ocean had his first appearance
But the going was tough to be fair.

Billy Ocean competed with Tony
A lad with an eye for the girls
Tony talked money, had patter
Poor Billy had only his curls.

A bit of success with the ladies
But his marriages didn't go right
So sad for a working class hero
Though try and deny this he might.

At Bruche he was called Albert Wangford
And delighted in taking the piss
Gang of four with his three other buddies
Was something he just could not miss.

The one thing that makes Tony proud
Is his entrepreneurial flair
If one of his schemes ever makes it
Then he'll be a millionaire.

His book that would keep your new bike safe
Another to help you to slim
The cycle idea was a washout
And the diet did not work for him.

Now that he's managed to reach seventy
We should all celebrate, you'll agree
The best thing that's happened to Tony
Meeting his partner, young Fi.
Photo by Mark Vegera on
The Wreck

Implants for mouth
Aids to help hearing
Feel like a car
Relentlessly nearing
End of its life
Dear to maintain
Cost more and more
Money down drain
Unlike the motor
Can't trade me in
Stuck with this body
Pass me that gin.

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on
Granddad is so old now
His back has got a crick
I think my Gramps was born
When the Dead Sea first got sick.
Photo by Engin Akyurt on
The Abuser
You have
A way of saying sorry
Which makes me feel
Like it's my fault.
Photo by Juan Vargas on
The daydreamer
Here lies the body 
Of Emily Spode
Distracted by life
As she crossed the main road.
The Truth
Back at the dentist again
She says, "Can you handle the tooth?"
"Please cut out the jokes, I'm in pain
Give it me straight, what's the truth?"

"Well, you need yet another extraction
The tooth has to go, I'm afraid."
"That's the fourth one this year," my reaction
"Do you think it's of money I'm made?"

"You're going to need something to chew on
Unless you like soup in a cup
I can make you some dentures to glue on
Or get some posh implants knocked up."

Well, teeth in a jar I don't fancy
To be kept, just in case, by the door
So call me a bit of a Nancy
But the implants are what I went for.

It costs though an arm and also a leg
The answer's crowd funding I know
If I do this then I won't need to beg
I'll call the page gobbo for Hobbo.

Photo by Aaron Johnson on
The Widow
when you promised
till death us do part
I never thought
it would happen.
Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on
Photo by u041fu0430u0432u0435u043b u0421u043eu0440u043eu043au0438u043d on
The surgeon
She worked with precision
And no supervision
Until the collision
As she made her incision
Led to circumcision
An unwanted division
Result, her derision.

Photo by Brett Sayles on
Rest in Peace
Here lies the body
Of Benjamin Doyle
Whose nurse got mixed up
When they said prick his boil.

Photo by Eric Cheng on
Not Me
A talented sculptor, artistic
With a lifestyle, described hedonistic
Thin as a waif
Assumed he was safe
From Covid, is one more statistic.
Photo by Rosemary Ketchum on
More dead from Covid nineteen
Than were killed in fourteen-eighteen
Second World War, Vietnam
And still this man don't give a damn.

Democracy, well that's a joke
The wishes of ordinary folk
Discounted on merely a whim
But not if you voted for him.
Photo by Pixabay on
Ring a ring o' roses
Cover mouths and noses
Hospital full, before the cull
We're all locked down.
Photo by cottonbro on
Girl Power
Remember, remember, the fifth of November
The U.K's in lock-down again
To beat this disease, sack all the M.P's
Put a woman in charge, with a brain.

Photo by Life Of Pix on
Best holiday ever
We should never have chosen off peak
It was raining, the car sprang a leak
David squashed granny's best hat
Baby Alfie was sick on the cat.

On the moors, dad ran over a ram
An hour later, we're stuck in a jam
We got there too late for the ferry
Mum found the bar and got merry.

We arrived there to find we'd left gran
At the caff, with a man from Japan
Our five star was under construct
And all of the rooms double booked.

The bathroom and toilet were dirty
The waiters and waitresses shirty
My purse and my handbag got nicked
And our sightseeing coaches were bricked.

The food gave young Lucy the trots
And Christopher broke out in spots
German measles, our french doctor said
And confined him to ten days in bed.

Paragliding, my mum sprained her back
Sadly, dad had a mild heart attack
We learned from a broker named Khalid
Our insurance was no longer valid.

Going home, despite begging and pleading
Dad got a ticket for speeding
When the copper told dad he could start
Our tyres were as flat as a fart.

Once home, track-traced for Covid 19
So then, yes you've guessed, quarantine
And because we are now isolating
This vacation gets zero star rating.
Photo by mali maeder on
Locked Down
On a planet that is unrecognisable
A lock-down is becoming advisable
Some follow the rules
A few act like fools
Whilst for others, the subject's divisible.

Photo by Taryn Elliott on
You are the butter on my bread
The salt upon my chips
I'll love you till you're dead
Despite your dodgy hips.

And you're the sugar in my tea
The cream upon my pie
Though your undies smell of wee
I will love you till I die.
Photo by Pixabay on
I want a circuit breaker
I'm in a tier three town
I'm up for anything
That brings my leccy down.

Leccy is slang for electricity or electricity bill
Photo by Pixabay on
Rock on Tommy
Funny faces
Made us laugh
With trademark braces.

Comedy legend
Missed by all
Gone forever
Bobby Ball.
Photo by Micael Widell on
What's Covid?
Here lies the body 
Of Caroline Crump
Coronavirus denier
Who listened to Trump.
Photo by Dids on
"Water on the brain,"
So the doctor said
"Don't worry," she explained
"A quick tap on the head."
Photo by Sebastian Voortman on
The Black Dog
You are the sunshine of my life
You are, you really are
Why does it keep raining then
My little superstar?
Photo by Anna Shvets on
Is a pandemic
Of too many
On the planet
It can't
Mean that
Can it?

Photo by Pixabay on
Vanishing Youth
You are no longer in your youth
So I'll remove that pesky tooth
I know there's wisdom in it
But we're going to have to bin it.

Brace yourself for this injection
I'll get rid of your infection
And the toothache that was raging
Is now a gap, first signs of ageing.

Your mouth will start to droop
But you can have a little soup
Now, if you're feeling better
Here's my bill and thank you letter.

Photo by Juan Vargas on
Mrs Mopp
Here lies the body
Of Madeleine Mopp
The sign wasn't 'Give Way'
It was quite clearly 'Stop.'
Photo by Michaela on
Dear Diary
Monday dentist, Tuesday doctor's
(Socially apart)
Wednesday have my hearing checked
Thursday, specialist for my heart.

Friday, get my toupee cleaned
Saturday, food from shops
Sunday, Covid lockdown
And all my pleasure stops.
Photo by Inzmam Khan on
I love my sons
I love my wife
I love my dog
I love my life.

Why is it then
If I'm so blessed
That once again
I'm damn depressed.

Get out of my mind...I hate you.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
Eternal dark, eternal light
No one can be certain
If our eternal soul takes flight
When life, closes it's curtain.
Photo by Pixabay on
House is asleep
Apart from me
I've counted sheep
I've been for a pee.

Sheets in a heap
Partner snoring
She is in deep
God this is boring.

It's just turned three
Street's so quiet
I'll make some tea
And sod the diet.

Tea did not work
Gave me heartburn
Feel such a berk
Will I never learn?

Read till I ache
Just start to drift
Shaken awake
"You're on early shift."
Photo by Ethan Brooke on
I am not dead, I will not die
And Covid won't beat me because
When this is over, then I'll fly
For six weeks holiday to Oz
Photo by Pixabay on
Photo by Mike on
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
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.

Photo by Edward Jenner on
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.

Photo by Irina Iriser on
Warning Labels
'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.

Photo by cottonbro on
Coronavirus Days
In happier days
To paraphrase
Folk led a great existence
Now they deep clean
Covid 19
And keep their social distance.

Photo by Nandhu Kumar on
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.

Photo by Pixabay on
Growing Old

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.

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