If my eyes were only blue
I’d have lived another life
I would exercise and diet
Even use a fork and knife
I’d reside in higher circles
Be a black belt in Kung-Fu
Then I’d water-ski for Britain
If my eyes were only blue

If my nose was independent
Like a pink nomadic slug
It could slither underneath my eyes
And give my ears a hug
I’d never need a smoke alarm
Nor microwave attendant
It could wipe itself without me
If my nose was independent

If my feet were only crocodiles
The world would be at peace
I’d drift along the riverbanks
While mutilating geese
I’d never buy a pair of shoes
No pedicures and files
I’d need a special toilet
If my feet were crocodiles

**

A world bereft of censorship
Would fraught with peril be
The populace could fck and sht
With bllocks swinging free
The ttties most voluptuous
Assorted ases too
Could slap together merrily
On ccks, ***** and true

Words like bstiality
Might find a daily use
How else could someone fst a sheep
Or pnetrate a goose?
Teabgging would hit the news
And maybe anl flching
Pnis fighting might break out
Or rampant fany belching

Censorship will save your eyes
And stop you going blind
But though you might not see the words
I've put them in your mind
You can’t hide from profanity
Behind a single star
Why disguise things from yourself?
You’ll still know what they are

Oh waiter my dear fellow
There's a beetle in my soup
He's swimming around the croutons
In a never ending loop

Oh waiter tarry hither
There's a slug inside my pie
He's guzzling the gravy up
And the pastry's gone all dry

Oh waiter while your present
There's a mouse under the chips
She's built a fence of runner beans
To guard them from the dips

Oh waiter please attend to me
There's foxes in my drink
They clambered in a while ago
And plain refuse to sink

Oh waiter hurry back to me
There's a walrus in my cake
He bellows if I dare approach
And makes the jelly shake

Oh waiter fetch a napkin
There's a horse...

There’s a place where it’s always the daytime
Where the sun never moves through the sky
Though I’m sure there’s a logical reason
Pray, permit me to not explain why
So abundantly verdantly fruitful
Is the flora that smothers the ground
That the floor is a tangle of taproots
And the soil can seldom be found

The canopy merges and mingles
As it fights with itself for the light
So the trunks hold a desolate vigil
In a world of perpetual night
Its inhabitants skulk in the shadows
With unblinking and baleful eyes
Eating only what falls from the darkness
Just the dead or the soon to demise

Bathe yourself in shades of night
Remove the light of day
Comb the worry from your hair
And feel it fall away
Find a thing of which you’re sure
Then turn it on its side
Bring it to me by the edge of the sea
At the cusp of the morning tide

Blink away the filaments
Illusion has you blind
And a cobweb of confusion
Is enveloping your mind
Take solace in an empty jar
And ***** the lid on tight
Bring it to me by the sycamore tree
In the middle of yesterday night

Clothe your form in alchemy
With just a twist of lime
Smash the face of every clock
To save yourself some time
Take a single weary breath
And wrap it up in twine
Bring it to me by the duty free
In exchange for a bottle of wine

Washed out every morning
Curse the night before
Wallpaper alarming
Eyes are getting sore
Ibuprofen breakfast
Knock it back with tea
Messing with the contrast
Squinting just to see

Sharp november morning
Stinging on the cheek
Cracked lips from yawning
Feeling antique
Light up in a doorway
Cough the dust aside
Use a passing ashtray
Don't break stride

Everything's Picasso
Jaunty on the eye
Drowsy desperado
Mouth is growing dry
Too many left turns
That just can't be right
Check for directions
Late despite

**

I've had my fill of llamas
And of all the woes they bring
For though they stop by frequently
They never say a thing
I find it rather ignorant
That a humpless dromedary
Should force on me its company
But not its commentary

I'm getting sick of llamas
My nights are fraught with dread
They wait until I'm fast asleep
Then bounce around the bed
My slippers smell of llama dung
The carpet's had its day
My house is getting crowded
There's a new one every day

I just can't move for llamas
They're piling up in drifts
Relentless in their appetite
I'm feeding them in shifts
I have to clamber over them
To get to anywhere
Would anyone like a llama?
I would simply love to share

I really can't stand llamas
The ******* just don't quit
And if they don't get their pop-tarts
They've a tendency to spit
They multiply quite rapidly
Devoid of conversation
I think I'll have to leave them
And resume my medication

**