When I was young
And the blood pulsed swiftly through my veins
Before age, trampling upon youth
Powdered my head
With the snows of fifty winters
I never thought about the future
Or what I would become
Didn’t care – still don’t
For as far as I’m aware
They don’t stitch pockets into shrouds
Oh those Forestry Commission roads
What a tale they could tell
I am the godfather of nothing whatsoever. Our Martin on the other hand thought he was the town cheese. Purported to deal in short-term solutions for long-legged men. He also liked the sound of his own voice. He was at Knowsley Safari Park one day where he saw a monkey with a banana in one hand and a tin-opener in the other, and he shouted over: “Hey, you don’t need the tin-opener for that!” To which the monkey replied: “It’s for the custard, dickhead!”
It was loft ladders what killed our Martin
Larry on the other hand cleans out the drains at the Methodist Centre and wears a permanent smile
He reckons a contented mind is a continual feast
When darkness falls, I’m as happy as Larry
Sometimes I set out for Ludlow
Sometimes I end up in Chepstow
I am a happy man
I drive the happy van
I scaled the Matalan
Made it, Ma, top of the world!
Grafting haddock in the back room of The George
Grafting haddock in the back room of The George
Grafting haddock in the back room of The George