|Ada Cottage Writing|
Do I want you there ?|
Yer taking up my space
Cheap suit, mobile, briefcase
And why are you a mouth-breather?
A lardy lad like you
Needs a seat and a half
To accommodate your arse
And have you got bronchial cattarh?
Put yer paper down
You know it's Murdoch's fibs
Get yer elbow out my ribs
And don't you own a handkerchief?
I've wanted to doze
From journey's beginning
Oh please stop bloody sniffling!
And fer Christ's sake blow yer nose!
Had a good blow mate?
Noise was pretty scary
Foghorn blast like the Queen Mary
Why can't you quietly blow your nose?
Peace descends at last
I'll let your meaty thigh
Grossly snuggle up to mine
If I can finally get some kip.
What the hell's that noise?
Your mobile's frantic bleep
Drags me back from shallow sleep
I'll give you Drunken Sailor, chum!
Oh yer name is Brett
You drive an X R 3
And work for H S B C
And your girlfriend's name is Louise?
Stopped yakking then?
Just outside of Chigwell
You went and lost the signal
It won't help to yell "HELLO!" yer know?
What do we have now?
A stick of Wrigley's Blue
Oh bollocks - open mouthed you chew?
Sod this for a game of soldiers - I'm off.
|First effort. It was an experiment to try and write stanzas of 5,6,7 and 8 syllable lines with a rhyming couplet in the middle. Needs work.|