Back Of A Bus.
If
you want to cause a fuss,
Paint a face on the back of a bus.
A Pal of mine young Jimmy Greene
Painted a face that was none too clean.
The Police you know caught him in the act,
He was sent to prison and that was a fact.
A Jury of twelve found him guilty of breaking the law,
I am so upset that I cannot write any more.
The moral to this my little tale,
If you must paint a face on a bus,
Do it in the middle of a gale,
Then there will be no one to see you that will cause a fuss.
He
Wasn't There.
Out
on the porch in my rocking chair,
Ghosts.
In
my house there lives some ghosts,
In A Shoe.
There
was an old woman, who lived in a shoe,
No
More Beer.
I
would be the first to shed a tear,
Smoking. If
only I could give up smoking,
An Apple.
It
was just an apple from a tree,
I spoke to a man that wasn't there.
He wasn't there, this I know,
Because he himself told me so.
We spoke together for a very long time,
Most of our talking took place in mime.
With hands and feet, we discussed this and that,
Until he became personal and criticised my hat.
I was very annoyed and called him a fool,
he himself apologised but remained very cool.
It was none of his business on this you'll agree,
In future I'll be very careful who talks to me.
But for the moment I'm glad he is there,
All though I cant see him from my rocking chair.
If you come to visit me, will he speak to you,
No one perceives him and he speaks to but a few.
His conversation is not brilliant you know,
But it passes the time that goes very slow.
One day I introduced him to a friend of mine,
They talked about me, which was not very fine.
I'll tell him very soon, not to come any more,
To tell you the truth, I find him a bore.
You see when he is with me people do stare,
As I talk to him on the porch, in my rocking chair.
Mischief is their second name.
They always seem to be drinking toasts,
Usually from my best champagne.
I cannot say they are as drunk as Lords,
For that would be going too far,
But I fear they often rattle their swords,
As they stand around in my bar.
They tell some pretty tall tales,
Of things that happened in the past.
Then they break out into piteous wails,
For even my stocks of champagne will not last.
I await the day when I can join the throng,
For I too have many a tale to tell,
I will drink and join in with a song.
For I have a voice as sweet as a bell,
I hope the new owner has a taste for beer,
For that is my favourite drink you know.
Then above my wails I will give a cheer,
As the beer slowly down my gullet does go.
I do not mind the Ghosts in my house,
They give the place quite an air,
I will act as quiet as a mouse,
As long as I get my fair share.
The ghosts have been there for as long as I can remember,
They treat my house as their own,
They can stay from January to December,
And call my house their home.
She had so many children that she did not know what to do.
This story has come down through the ages,
Strange but her name is not in the yellow pages.
Was it the fact that she lived in a shoe?
Or had so many children, I have not a clue.
How did she feed all those hungry young mites?
It must have kept her awake most of her nights.
Was she helped by the local peoples around?
Did the Farmers help with crops from the ground?
Who was the father of all these offspring?
From him we know nothing, no not a thing.
Clothing for her children was a problem to be solved.
How many other helping hands were involved?
The whole story is a mystery to me and to others,
Were the children all hers or did they have different mothers?
So many questions with hardly any answers,
Was the old woman one of life’s chancer's?
Or was she really an old woman that lived in a shoe?
I cannot tell but how about you.
If all the bars and pubs were shut.
It would mean no more beer,
And I would go off my nut.
Beer is the poison to drown all sorrows,
A politician once said.
He did not think about the morrow,
Or the sufferers with a thick head.
Beer is good to quench the thirst,
It is better than sweet lemonade,
I for one would surely burst,
If no more beer was made.
So brewers keep that good beer flowing,
For drink of it I surely must.
Brew until it is overflowing.
My mouth is full of dust.
Yes I would be the first to shed a tear,
My heart would be filled with rage,
If suddenly there was no more beer,
My face would then show my age.
I am sure it would make my day.
No! I really am not joking,
If only I could have my way.
I started off with twenty,
Alas it did not stop there.
You might say that it was plenty,
And more than my fair share.
I was caught in this habit vicious,
It soothed the craving from within,
Strange I never found smoking delicious.
And I find no sense therein.
I have made up my mind to smoke no more,
And have thrown my cigarettes away.
More money is in my pocket for sure,
And that is the way it will stay.
That brought forbidden knowledge to you and me.
Into Eve's ear whispered the snake.
If you eat of this fruit history you will make.
Eve took an apple and gave it to Adam.
Who took a bite and called her Madam.
Eve too ate of the forbidden fruit,
Then she complained that Adam had no suit.
Now all knowledge was theirs to enjoy,
Eve knew she was a girl and Adam a boy.
Adam you are naked get away from me.
Get two leaves from that old fig tree.
We must cover ourselves what a shame.
From now on life will never be the same.
They left the Garden never to return.
And from that day on Snakes they did spurn.
Think well before you pluck fruit from a tree,
Ask is it becoming for you and me.
