BogRhymes

Very
Giving
Gerry
Living.
Merry,
Some
Times
Trying.
Very
Young
Gerry
Dying.

Ah, Mister Gordon Brown,
Hang your head well down!
Not even the PR king
Behind the ads for Hunky Dory,
Could stop the sliding swing
From Labour to Tory.

The title track – is the final track,
On the album.
A little clap – big pat on the back,
A job well done.

Walking with my child’s hand, in my hand,
When all of a sudden, I understand.
Things I’d thought, and things I’d planned,
They really don’t, mean a damn.

Viva La Revolution
Of This Disc
Taxi Cab Alone
Is Worth The Risk

So now, the poor mouth Boucher,
Claims that he’s no gouger.
As little Seanie Fitz,
Whilst dining at the Ritz,
Passes salt to Fingers Fingleton,
Who says, “Well thanks a million, son!”
But perhaps they have a conscience?
Now really, that’s pure nonsense.
What annoys me even more,
And I know this brings a snore…
Irish folk don’t give a toss,
Hindsight prophets, future loss.

Not a cloud in the sky,
Not a plane either.
The birds gotta fly,
But jets take a breather.

And speaking of birds,
I saw my first swallow.
There’s one for the nerds,
And no tweet to follow.

Sigur Rós, Gudjohnsen,
And of course, Bjork.
Now volcanic ash,
Exported from the north.

One boy in
Tyrellstown,
One girl in
Boston.

Because of thugs,
Two lives mugged.
Two young lives,
Lost, gone.

Then just days later,
No news greater.
Hassan and Hussein,
Two lives gained.

I know this may sound petty,
Needs airing though, perhaps.
Grown men, they look pathetic,
When wearing baseball caps.

Parallels are ironic,
It beggars belief..!
A land so comic,
Please give me relief..!
We live in a land,
With leaders as Guess-What’s?
So, give me a hand,
Steer clear of the Yes-Bots!

Rio,
Rio – Ferdinand,
What kind of a baby are you?
Are you..?
You won’t shake hands,
When you lose,
You lose,
No, you won’t shake hands,
When you lose,
Boo Hoo!!