I am very bored.
My eyes are now sore.
On my desk is a cord,
Not sure what it's for.
Finger up nose to pick it.
Finger on thumb to flick it.
Eyes on the telly for cricket.
Let's be honest, let's be clear,
In fact let's drink another beer.
I really cannot stand my job,
So please get me right out of here.
With her soft brown hair,
So radiant it isn't fair.
Love her? Do I dare?
Wind and rain are strong.
Birds have not burst into song.
In summer it's wrong.
Autumn winds are here.
There was a young lady called Tart,
Who let rip an enormous fart,
The might of the roar,
Broke down her front door,
And proudly she said, "That's a start".
I'm updating my old P.S.P.
In the morning it's after half three.
Can't believe I'm awake,
Tomorrow head break,
Please throw me from very tall tree.
Pakistani Mohammad Aamer,
Much too young to buy his own beer,
But his bowling is ace,
He got in Ponting's face,
Other batsmen are living in fear.
The weather is nice,
but I am no fool.
So she spiked my rice
and I jumped in the pool.
Since I still appreciate you,
Let's find love while we may.
Because I know I'll hate you
When you are old and grey.
I am such a Poetry Philistine,
It is no good unless I make it rhyme.
But that can take quite a lot of time,
When I get it wrong I will whinge and whine.
John Isner and Mahut,
Whatever did you do?
I don't know who to sue.
Oh Isner and Mahut,
There was a young lady called Gristle,
Who once cleaned her bum with a thistle,
It did not work well,
And left quite a smell,
Which left her alone under mistle -
I'm an idiot, idi-fool,
Idiot, idiot, idi-tool,
Idiot, idi-lump,
Idiot, idi-chump,
Idiot, idiot, most uncool.
Gatt wishes he'd never been born,
Says his brain is the size of a prawn,
You know the old spinner,
But he ain't much thinner,
That bloody Aussie is Shame Warne.
You must pay attention now please,
What I want is a full flavoured cheese.
It will not make me fat,
I will not believe that,
It will help all the joints in my knees.
It was good to have Lumb in the side,
South African birthright aside!
Though we must be fair,
Shane Warne got him there,
He smashed all the bowlers with pride.
Last night I had an unusual dream,
But not the type that would make you scream.
I dreamt I was eaten by a large dog beast,
It must have thought me part of a feast.
Klusener could whack it, yes Lance,
To spinners, down wicket, he'd dance,
No defensive tricks,
He smote them for six,
The same for the quicks without prance.
