my bampa was a minergrafting down a piti recall his chesty cough black lumps in his spitdust of  death for pittancelined a throat so dry filthy lungs but clean heartwith love you cannot buytwelve hours down a holetin tub for a bathprepared with love and care nan placed by the hearthbraving winds and weatherto reach the outside loousing daily newspaperto wipe away the pooso sometimes when i'm downand life gets on my **** remember bampa's life...andwhere he worked, washed, and ****

bystander was watchinga blind man cross the streethis guide dog stopping half wayand ****** upon his feetarriving at the pavementno reactive moandipped into his shoppingto give the dog a bonewhat you think you doing?the nosy stranger callswhen i find his headi'll kick him in the *****

lil taffy two tripshad been away beforea miners trip to barryalso nantyglovalley boy adventurereager to exploreworld before his feetmam crying on the doori've packed you tea and sandwichesweeping in her shawlher little boy's too young for thishe's only forty fourintrepid, brave and welshfocus clear as crystalsailed the severn seasended up in bristolbright lights, noise, and blackmenbut taffy knew the crackhe'd watched a film called zuluthe welsh are'nt scared of blackapproached a pretty ladylooking rather coldstockings and suspendershigh heels, posing boldbussle, crowds and trafficleft taffy feeling illneed to sort my head outwhere can i get  a pillshe introduced a hooded manwho offered him a jointi got no where to cook itbut thank you....there's no pointfive pounds for a tabletbut taffy had to risk itwhat added to confusionthe man called it a biscuitsat down on the pavementfeeling warm and funnytook his little cap offand people chucked in moneypioneer bold and bravesniggered thro his teeththey won't believe his storywhen he returns to neathno butchers or a chemista place beyond beliefblack man selling medicinealso joints of beefcraddling the flask of teaand sanwiches of spamtears down his knitted scarfwrapped lovingly by mam

way down in abercwmscwtwhere taffy's shovel coala taffy shoved a shovelup another taffy's holeidwal called the doctorbut he could'nt comepoor taffy had to walk homewith a shovel up his bumhis mother gave him tabletsto ease the agonybut taffy had to stand upwhile he ate his tea

driving along in my auto mobilemy baby beside me at the wheeleverything right, nothing seemed wrongrevealing her thigh, a glimpse of her thongteasing and pleasing, live action pornparty in pants, one wheel and two hornscrash, wallop, bang, cos i did'nt seepolice car in front, but he felt mea fine, six points, coppers new bumperthump her? or dump her, but wanted to **** hershouting mad rages, the constable rantswho stunk like a sewer.......he'd **** in his pants

jumping, dancingbowels burstingearly riseralways first inclung to the dooragonising hourscrying with pain....she sings in the showerok! dad you can come intoo late nowi **** in the bin

anger, confusiontrapped in a cagetroublesome soulriddled with ragefamily and friendslove him to bitsdon't see the demonsfighting his witsblack cage of ragelifestyle demandingcries for someones understandinginternal tearsecho despairviolent voicesunder his hairtroubles lie heavyon un-opened heartsoff-load, travel light....wise horse,...empty cart

we'm from the valleys,
high in wales,
dull  as donkeys,
hard as nails.

torvaen town,blaenavon gwent,
council caves,that some pay rent.
black and white tellys,
run on gas,
houses wiv lectric,is upper class.

we shoplift in winter,
cos summers no good,
you  can't wear coats,
you can't wear hoods.

we once mined coal,
made steel and iron,
honest hardmen,
pittance relied on.

now thats all gone,
thro government bullies,
now hoodies steal goodies,
from tesco and woolies.

valley boy logic,
philosophy real,
all good fings come.
....to those who steal.

black clouds of solitude,mid celebrating crowds,people oblivious,of his lonely cloud.knee caps exposed,holes in his socks,temporary soles,from a cardboard box.homeless, sad, lonely,tortured by fumes,christmas dinner,families in tune.laceless shoes, fleeing,agony of hunger,lost wasted chances,when ignorant youngster.tattered feet hasten,evading the din,to comfort of home....two rats, and a bin.shiver and sharing,leftover platter,green mouldy french fries,black soggy batter.cooking fumes blending,seasonal natter,his dreamland beckons,cold teeth chatter.

lil taffy two tugs would wake up to the dawn,leaping to his laptop searching sites for ****,thanking stephen hawkins, also mr gates,grateful of technology, while taffy masterbates.the boyo bashed his bishop, most of all his life,now pc world was better and cheaper than a wife,lubrication, change of hands, oil and vaseline,lesbians, fat fetishes, and threesomes on his screen,but poor ole taffy passed away, his family in disgrace,trousers round his ankles, a smile upon his face,but two tugs died so happy, while he had a vid on,undertaker done his nutt,,,,he could'nt get the lid on.

englishman....one's wife's rather stupid,as thick as one could be,thinks wales is part of england,and some are in the sea.****....ma womans thick as *****,rite aff her ****** noodle,she took ma rottie fer a walk,an came back wi a poodle.paddy....oi'l be ye all,witt out a doubt,moi missus is da tickest,das ever bin about,she went out for a hen night,somwher near caerphilly,she had ten condoms in her bag,and has'nt got a *****.

burning bowels,volcanic eruptions,cauldron of curry,greedy consumptions.stomach constricted,choking barbed wire,*** like a baboon,that sat on a fire.bubbling belly, a pea for a brain,**** like a *** flag, stinging with pain,sat on a toilet, i grunt and i gurn,once a week habit,.....cos i never learn.

royal rulers mighty roar,jungle dwellers all in awe,mountain,bush, pasture, plain,reigns supreme his domain.but...could this kingdom cat compare,on close cut grasses greens of fair?would he fill ten holes for fun?bag nine birdies, not just one.does he stroke a lengthy club?***** that swing thro greeny shrub,best perfecting all he masters,dimpled ***** inbag with castors.would he ryd-her cup of love? use two hands, just one glove?could he bunk-her in the rough?wedge it, chip it, putt the ****.could he ease the game with foreplay?drive it homeward up the fairway,does he eye the aim while kneeling?as caddy guides his pole to feeling,so who's the top dog ***** cat?won't take long to answer that,would lion do it if he could?i know for sure......tiger wood

my name is roger rabbit,
i'm fed up of my job
,head is always throbbing,
my best mate is a ****.

batteries up my *******,
make my ears vibrate,
sat astride a *****,
intitled master bate.

i've no control or vision
as i get shoved about,
ears are always tickling...
smelling like a trout.

hate my new vocation,
you might think it's funny,
my other job was better,
when i was easter bunny.

***** delwyn two *****,
the rampant ram from brecon,
watched the jungle program,
the one with ant and dec on.

now delwyn not the brightest,
mountain man from wales,
but knew he was the boyo,
for any bushlicker trails.

i've licked lots of bushes,
he wrote to ant and dec,
champion  mountain muffer,
with permanent stiff neck.

whay hay man we are sorry,
ye cannot qualify,
y haf te be a celebrity,
an in the pooblics eye.

an you are jus a diver,
the lowest of the lowest,
but i am a cellar butty,...
ask any girl in powys.

mary had a little lamb,
she called it pinky winky,
when it turned into a sheep,
she sold it to the ******.

jack and jill had dropped a pill,
to dance the night away,
jack came home with two black eyes,
cos he forgot to pay.

hairy mary quite contrary,
how does your garden grow?
halogen lamps, council house,
thats all you need to know.

baa baa black sheep,
think i need to pull,
your tail upwards,
cos my ***** are full.

little miss muffet,sat on a tuffet,
snorting before a night out,
little jack horner stuck in his thumb,
she punched his ****** lights out.

sometimes i sit and wonder why,
i'm staring at this screen,
if you don't like x-factor,
you wil know what i mean.

one night i had  a curry,
doc martin had just started,
she had her taste of karma,
as i let rip, and farted.

moaning bout the pungent fumes,
say's i'm very rude,
but she's the one to blame,
she cooked the ******* food.

laughing loud at noise and smells,
omitted from my belly,
*******  up face, holds her nose,
and tries to watch the telly.

valley mountains high,
cattle there to serve us,
rugged men are men,
sheep are very nervous,

megan's dentures in a jar,
pug face snoring porker,
drove llambo to his wellies,
the mountain mutton stalker.

valley commandos camouflage dress,
headband, wellies, wooly string vest,
llambo llewellyn up to the test,
heads for the hills searching his quest.

english may laugh,
and label us sinners,
while we **** sheep,
they eat them for dinners.

way high on brecon beacons,
amid the rain and sleet,
along came a ***** ole collier,
with wellies on his feet.

i said, you ***** ole collier,
my wife is fast asleep,
she's always got an headache,
please help me catch a sheep.

i am a ***** ole collier,
my name is slimy sam,
but you see i'm gay boy,
so lets go catch a ram.

reading the papers,
watching the news,
future is bleak,
to negative views.

lambing in springtime,
fresh flowers in bloom,
wash away worry,
misery and gloom.

look forward not backward,
with hope in your heart,
pave your own pathway,
or stay at the start.

horizons seem bleak,
to miserly souls,
blind to the  lambs,...
and never have goals.

when dai made love to bloddwyn,
t'was a painful strain,
but he battled onward,
through agony and pain.

sorrry bout that darling,
for rushing with my urging,
i would've took my time,
if i knew you were a ******.

don't worry bout it sweetheart,
as she turned the lights off,
if iknew you had more time,
i would've took my tights off.

religeous rulers point the way,
prophets promise glory day,
we selected you to stand,
die for power, greed, and land,
heaven waits with golden gates,
eternity and peace awaits.

prime minister, or president,
never go where you get sent,
politicians telling lies,
young men dream thro rambo eyes,
fight for country, king or queen,
blood on your hands,  mine are clean.

misled martyrs, fighting wars,
greedy leaders selfish cause,
soldiers bleed on foriegn  sand,
frontline battles cowards planned,
no turkey this year wrapped in foil,
fight for freedom....or is it oil?

eighteen fifty industry,
men, women, children scarred,
ovens spewing sparks of death,
soulful welshmen charred.

greed of evolution,
marches on and treads,
upon the hungry townfolk,
that seldom see their beds.

ironmasters morals,
swilling in the smoke,
furnace fire bellows,
valley people choke.

ancestors bore hardship,
in days of horse and cart,
and modelled us to what we are....
welsh, proud, with homely hearts.