Sunday Papers What a waste of money It isn't very funny When I spend hard earned cash On the same old trash There must be a cheaper way To line my dogs poop tray But every Sunday it's the same I never learn, so lame!
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Poo Doo Hoodoo Poo doo hoodoo Is it sudoku voodoo In a yam yam bam bam No it's a gim gam jum jam Spitting black tictac Is that a tic tick tactic No it's a yum yum bum bum I'm on a run fun fun run Peace
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Not Again "Not again" cried the man as he stared at the race As another big favourite limped home in last place But as he lamented his hand reached to his pocket For more ammunition for the next beaten docket All he had left was a tattered old five Enough to keep his slim hopes alive He scanned the starters, one name stood out The same as his daughters, his was in with a shout! The horse didn't even finish the race But the man kept despair away from his face For tomorrow was payday,fresh ammo and hope Months later he ended it all with a rope
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The Wind Outside The wind and driving rain Batters the window pane But I don't care Because I'm not out there I'm tucked up nice and warm At the foot of the bed with you That's what I would be thinking If you listened to my miaows And let me in I'm freezing and soaking You absolute bitch
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