The Box seat

I found out what I was made to do whilst carrying the boy In the box seat, front and centre stage Enraptured in the parody of every pride and joy Afforded to me now and of an age

Juan the Spanish housefly

  It was a day like any other with the sun splitting the stones Juan, the Spanish house-fly had his mind set on a roam He hugged the wife and children and he said he’d be home soon Licked his feet, rubbed himself and buzzed out of the room


You can keep your Hulkamania; Haystacks was the man A brooding great colossus, but I’d always been a fan When most preferred Big Daddy, Shirley held no sway with me I roared on the solemn Giant, World of Sport on ITV

Old School

I left this place in nineteen eighty-seven Jettisoned unwilling out the door It’s the same door still today so much further on the way And pawed since then a million times or more

Princess Belle

Belle is a princess; I’ve seen her princess dress She also is a cowgirl, and that’s allowed as she’ll attest Her boyfriend’s name is Dexter, which makes Dexter a prince She met him back when she was young and they’ve been dating since

Phil Liggett in your ear

On our 5-Speed Viking racers we set out on our endeavor The local Alpe D’Huez, myself and my friend Trevor There was no Lycra in them days, no power bars nor coach When both of us were Kelly and both of us were Roche

Tay in the bog

Me mother would wake without asking, just as daylight seeped into the sky The rest of the clan would in due course arise to the glorious smell of the fry Me father in service would loll down the stairs and give the auld dog a quick rub Fix up a ponger of scalding hot tay