we  three kings are having a jar,
bearing gifts we stole from the spar,
money counting, profits mounting,...
selling em in the bar.

ooh, ooh, car of  wonder,pile of shite,
pinched it from a building site,
we proceeded, they don't need it,
taxi's dear this time of night.

we three kings are shy of a goal,
work for a living is selling your soul,
we got money, think it's funny,
tuesday we sign on the dole.

hoodie laughs at working fools,
mocking men that play to rules,
we pay taxes, he relaxes,
he's the king, and we the mules.

befriended by the builders
a building site next door
they gave her little jobs to do
although she's only four

when friday came,they even gave
her wages for the week
foreman smiled at sophie's joy
and tweaked her rosie cheek

off she went, to spend her pay
there was no way of stopping
a working girl with hard earned cash
so mummy took her shopping

hello mr  sweetshop man
i've got cash to spend
been grafting with my muckers
an real job,....not pretend

are you working monday?
he passed her pick and mix
aye! if those  wankers from jewson
bring the fucking bricks

food of abundance
feeling redundance
riddled with frustrated rage

pretending to love me
wire above me
confined to a small metal cage

no longer sing
a song on a wing
natural envirioment gone

free as a bird
these words are absurd
in prison, and done nothing wrong

while trying to buy some durex
he trembled to his roots
this is just a sport shop sir
you'd better try at boots

half an hour later
fearing confrontation
i'd like to buy a rubber thing
with batteries and vibration

once more the lady scowled
while showing him the door
this is just a sport shop
and don't come back for more

i want some k.y. jelly
he whispered his demand
her patience now exhausted
manager came to hand

what's the problem sir?
you seem a little harassed
welsh rugby,  shirt he mumbled
but i'm too embarrassed

loaded with her weekly shop
outside the doors at asda
horny milf that never let
opportunity go passed her

hello big boy
she stroked his cheek
my bags are heavy
knees are weak

i lift  dumbells
night and day
giss ya shopping
lead the way

i've got an itchy pussy
and i've got the horn
do you want to see it?
you sexy hunk of brawn

you'll have to show me luv
it's hard for me to see
those bloody japanese cars
look all the same to me

to see alonely child
no mother to confide
a mother once so close
bonded side by side

till illness claimed
left children maimed
stunned in solitude

no calming song
a mammy gone
that fed you love and food

but mother proud
from watching cloud
will guide and shepherd you

with loving arms
and all her charms
from smiling skies of blue

sneaky stan, the builder man,
who laboured on the site
wheeled a barrow full of straw
for two weeks every night

foreman feared some pilfering
and  searched it every day
he fumbled round, but always  found
now't below the hay.

but sneaky stan, a gardening man,
unhappy with wage rates
had stolen fourteen wheel barrows
and sold em to his mates

cross-eyed puppy rottwieler
our bond of love is deep
because of his affliction
the breeder sold him cheap

visited  the local vet
took the time and trouble
to make my doggy better
and stop him seeing double

i'll have to put him down at once
said dr fronconstevi
why?  just because he's cross-eyed?
no,.... he's fucking heavy

lil jack horner, sat in the corner
nursing his aching back
stuck his fat thumb, right up his bum
and miss muffet gave him a wack

dopey del the dealer
dyslexsic dodgy bloke
got a can stuck up my nose
when i tried sniffing coke

offered me a bisco discuit
i think was ecstasy
said that i would dance all night
but he called it a d

snack, and spunk, d.m.a
maraganja, weed
pc plod approached the scene
and del was off at speed

i am the boss, and pay the cost
of your life every week
i'm upper class,so kiss my ass
twice daily on each cheek

you are my slave,until your grave
depend on me for pay
you must obey,all i say
eight hours every day

my status rules,you grateful fools
that grovel to my money
i demand, your grafting hands
feed me milk and honey

yeh, but......

i work for you, and listen to
the bullshit and the crap
because i've got two kids to feed
along with mortgage trap

but you don't see, where i pee
when you demand a cuppa
laugh aloud, feeling proud
each time i eat my supper

you spit your shit, i laugh in fits
recall your furrowed frown
the night i painted your new car
and let the tyres down  

shout your clout, boss me about
don't care how i'm feeling
but you don't see, where i pee
and everything i'm stealing

the working girl approached him
a busy cardiff pub
stockings and suspenders
gave his leg a rub

hundred quid, i'm yours tonight
whatever you desire
heart beat like a big bass drum
his calvin kliens on fire

could not believe his fortune
what a stroke of luck
so he made her paint his house
and clean his dirty truck

the thief entered the window
then filled his pants with poo
voice came from the darkness
" twinkles watching you"

panic in his viens
unsure what to do
yet again the warning words
" twinkle's watching you"

trembling hand that shone a torch
then sighed with much relief
the parrot in a corner said....
" hello, my name is kieth"

what silly bastard named you that?
the robber mocked the bird
kieth the talking parrot?
the daftest thing i've heard

"the same man with a rottwweiler"
"that bit off someones nose"
"he's very good at creeping"
" his name is twinkle toes"

literate legends of the past
wordsworth, tennyson, shakespeare, poe
philosophers preaching wisdom
whilst churning words of woe

if born a century onward
their genius contribution
would re-direct thought
and our retribution

clever wit, used correctly
relays a message indirectly
be loud in voice
be strong in deed
plants that blosom
have nurtured seeds

learned men, with miserly souls
different values, different goals
hypothetically speaking, if resurrected
could this system be corrected

past vision blurred, future masked
the valley victim duly asked...
what make thee of my vale?
once vibrant, now lies stale

thine vale like a garment, tightly twined
sceptical of progress, wallow in decline
thy forefathers fester in premature tombs
martyrs to masters, grafted in gloom

thy dwell on the dead, thou should view ahead
though mystery of history must ever be read
tread forth with vision, or stumble ye blind
don't dwell on the dead, or land once mined

i stand and stare, fridge is bare
no carpet on the floor
washing soaked, heating broke
bailiffs at the door

roof is leaking, house is creaking
single dad, sad moaner
middle aged, without a wage
christmas round the corner
but.....

a little boy in india
not eaten for a week
no shirt upon his back....
a grin upon his cheek

he's never tasted biscuits
crisps, or orange squash
always wears a smile
but never clothes to wash

unaware of fridges
heating run on gas
never seen a carpet
school room or a class

materialistic bollocks
food that goes to waste
life we take for granted
he will never taste

happy ever grateful
for simple things of need
never witness our shit
of gluttoness and greed

one day the giant teacher
walked pupils round the world
some small giant boys
some small giant girls

jimmy giant stick your hand
down through the cloudy mist
tell me our location ...
his methods had a twist

think we are in india
triumphant in his call
i can smell the curry
and feel the taj mahal

julie giant,tommy, joe
willy, stan, and sid
egypt was the answer
they touched the pyramid

china, shouted sally
i can feel the wall
chinese folk in paddy fields
i can touch em all

tiny taffy  last in turn
came trailing from behind
dai stick your hand down through the sky
and see what you can find

BLAENAVON, shouted dai
while clutching at his crotch.
can you feel the big pit?
no,.... some twat stole my watch

wise old owl awoke one day
and studied human habits
blinkered, busy, bussling,
stressed out racing rabbits

ever chasing,always racing
never gaining, life of straining
predictable futures, and the source
who's the wiser? cart or horse?

he gazed at our system
thought whats the point....
of hussle and bussle
then rolled up a joint

rumour tumours
feed and flourish
mushrooms need
shit for nourish

purposeless people
with nothing to do
scorn the progressors
vision to view

optimist swims
jelly fish float
thro sea of life
live or gloat

i have a blow up sheepy doll
that sleeps with me at night
apart from where i fixed her
most of her is white

might be sad, some say mad
when sexlife is in limbo
love bite made her fart last night
she flew out through the window

i sense a bitter person
twisted by life's fate
rather call it passion
instead of woeful hate

life is like a soda bottle
shaken with compression
bathsheba has released some gas
thro poetical expression

moralistic fibres
unafraid to speak
troubled past endured
made her strong not weak

also sense connection
you, myself, and jack
we have found a way in life
to get shit off our back

might be totally wrong, but it's my impression. please let me know