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Monday, November 13, 2006
Friday, November 10, 2006
The Buckaroo Blues
I wrote the letter secretly, my parents weren't to know
My demands I’d kept quite modest and the budget pretty low
And though it was a formal note, I kept the tone quite light
It was filled with love and kisses but was nonetheless polite
I made sure that the envelope was carefully addressed
Within the kiss I sealed it with my hopes and prayers were stressed
I popped it in the post-box on my way to school next morning
It was the first day of October so he was getting ample warning
With Christmas three full months away he’d surely get my mail
My careful forward-planning would ensure I couldn’t fail
My girlfriends wanted several toys and were full of Barbie banter
But there was only one small thing I wished to get from Santa
I didn’t ask for roller skates, a pogo-stick or Chopper
I thought it would be greedy to be seeking a Space Hopper
I tried to not sound pushy and wrote ‘please see what you can do’
Hoping my good manners would secure me ‘Buckaroo’
I dreamed about it every night and during class at school
How I longed to load the saddle on that little plastic mule
How thrilling it would be to see that little pack-horse kick
But knowing when he’s just about to do it, that’s the trick!
For as you load his saddle up he hunkers on his haunches
And if just one item overloads that donkey, then he launches!
Would I possess a steady hand and the necessary skill?
The excitement and anticipation nearly made me ill!
Till finally the weeks passed by and it was Christmas Eve
In bed that night I dreamed about the gifts I would receive
And in the morning bright and early out of bed I leapt
I ran and woke my sister in the bedroom where she slept
The two of us were squealing as we scrambled down the stairs
We burst into the living room to view our Christmas wares
As one by one we tore our presents free from all their wrappings
I couldn’t find my little plastic mule and all his trappings
I opened up an Etch-a-Sketch, some crayons and Kerplunk!
But when I got a Barbie-doll my heart was truly sunk
I opened up an art set that was full of paint and glitter
The tears rolled down my face my disappointment was so bitter
Was it that my Buckaroo demands were just too steep
That Santa couldn’t meet them and reduced this girl to weep?
Oh why would I not get to see that little donkey buck?
The reason was quite simple – Santa couldn’t give a fuck!
I wrote the letter secretly, my parents weren't to know
My demands I’d kept quite modest and the budget pretty low
And though it was a formal note, I kept the tone quite light
It was filled with love and kisses but was nonetheless polite
I made sure that the envelope was carefully addressed
Within the kiss I sealed it with my hopes and prayers were stressed
I popped it in the post-box on my way to school next morning
It was the first day of October so he was getting ample warning
With Christmas three full months away he’d surely get my mail
My careful forward-planning would ensure I couldn’t fail
My girlfriends wanted several toys and were full of Barbie banter
But there was only one small thing I wished to get from Santa
I didn’t ask for roller skates, a pogo-stick or Chopper
I thought it would be greedy to be seeking a Space Hopper
I tried to not sound pushy and wrote ‘please see what you can do’
Hoping my good manners would secure me ‘Buckaroo’
I dreamed about it every night and during class at school
How I longed to load the saddle on that little plastic mule
How thrilling it would be to see that little pack-horse kick
But knowing when he’s just about to do it, that’s the trick!
For as you load his saddle up he hunkers on his haunches
And if just one item overloads that donkey, then he launches!
Would I possess a steady hand and the necessary skill?
The excitement and anticipation nearly made me ill!
Till finally the weeks passed by and it was Christmas Eve
In bed that night I dreamed about the gifts I would receive
And in the morning bright and early out of bed I leapt
I ran and woke my sister in the bedroom where she slept
The two of us were squealing as we scrambled down the stairs
We burst into the living room to view our Christmas wares
As one by one we tore our presents free from all their wrappings
I couldn’t find my little plastic mule and all his trappings
I opened up an Etch-a-Sketch, some crayons and Kerplunk!
But when I got a Barbie-doll my heart was truly sunk
I opened up an art set that was full of paint and glitter
The tears rolled down my face my disappointment was so bitter
Was it that my Buckaroo demands were just too steep
That Santa couldn’t meet them and reduced this girl to weep?
Oh why would I not get to see that little donkey buck?
The reason was quite simple – Santa couldn’t give a fuck!
Friday, November 03, 2006
World Cup Woes
Dear Damien Duff
No need to feel rough
Your efforts could not have been greater
The win was denied
And all Ireland cried
For the lack of a penalty-taker
The loss wasn’t earned
And, oh how we yearned
For Spain to miss one of their kicks
But keep your chin up
And your eye on that cup
‘Cos it’s yours in 2006
Dear Damien Duff
No need to feel rough
Your efforts could not have been greater
The win was denied
And all Ireland cried
For the lack of a penalty-taker
The loss wasn’t earned
And, oh how we yearned
For Spain to miss one of their kicks
But keep your chin up
And your eye on that cup
‘Cos it’s yours in 2006
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Low-waisters
Attention please, all dedicated female fashionistas
Listen up young ladies, here’s a message for you sisters
It currently may be in vogue for waistlines to hang low
And for navels and their piercings to be blatently on show
But if you choose to wear your jeans slung down around your hips
I urge you, show some self-restraint when tucking into chips
Stick strictly to a regimen of fruit and veg that’s fresh
For nothing’s less attractive than the sight of too much flesh
You may believe you’re beautiful as down the road you strut
Displaying for the world to see, the horror of your gut
But it's really quite revolting to be showing off your fat
In jeans designed for skinny girls with tummies taught and flat
And when those jeans are worn with heels on which you’re forced to hobble
The result is just an increase in your lumber-region wobble
So if you have no will-power and you feel you must indulge
Show some consideration, please, and cover up your bulge
Attention please, all dedicated female fashionistas
Listen up young ladies, here’s a message for you sisters
It currently may be in vogue for waistlines to hang low
And for navels and their piercings to be blatently on show
But if you choose to wear your jeans slung down around your hips
I urge you, show some self-restraint when tucking into chips
Stick strictly to a regimen of fruit and veg that’s fresh
For nothing’s less attractive than the sight of too much flesh
You may believe you’re beautiful as down the road you strut
Displaying for the world to see, the horror of your gut
But it's really quite revolting to be showing off your fat
In jeans designed for skinny girls with tummies taught and flat
And when those jeans are worn with heels on which you’re forced to hobble
The result is just an increase in your lumber-region wobble
So if you have no will-power and you feel you must indulge
Show some consideration, please, and cover up your bulge
A Plea to Thierry Henry en Franglais
Je parle, I think, Thierry Henry
Pour tous les Arsenal fans, and me
Quand je vous dis you must not go
Parce-que l’équipe will miss you trop
Je ne veux pas devenir a moaner
But how can you move to Barcelona?
Désirez-vous un peu plus de soleil?
We’ll get you a sun-bed and make you stay!
Pouvez-vous vraiment let down poor Arsène
Et lui dire you’ll no longer be one of his men?
Si nous considerons vos impressive stats
It’s clear those boys need you at Emirates
So when Rijkaart calls, say no and mean no
Don’t join the ranks of Ronaldinho
Je vous en pris, ne quittez-pas
For all the Arsenal fans, et moi!
Je parle, I think, Thierry Henry
Pour tous les Arsenal fans, and me
Quand je vous dis you must not go
Parce-que l’équipe will miss you trop
Je ne veux pas devenir a moaner
But how can you move to Barcelona?
Désirez-vous un peu plus de soleil?
We’ll get you a sun-bed and make you stay!
Pouvez-vous vraiment let down poor Arsène
Et lui dire you’ll no longer be one of his men?
Si nous considerons vos impressive stats
It’s clear those boys need you at Emirates
So when Rijkaart calls, say no and mean no
Don’t join the ranks of Ronaldinho
Je vous en pris, ne quittez-pas
For all the Arsenal fans, et moi!
Thursday, October 05, 2006
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