The design of our human body is clever,
It's been this way since like forever,
Our face placed at the front, it's nose,
Is far away from our stinky toes,
Thank Lord the **** is at the back,
From farts that waft up from the crack,
The more you really sit and dwell,
He's thought about our sense of smell,
Care was taken, like no other,
He's got it right, the clever ******.

Have you ever had one of those days,
Where you wish the world would go away,
People getting on your case,
Standing close, invading space,
You wonder what it's all about,
Life's testing you, I have no doubt,
Don't let them break you, then they can't,
Vent your spleen, and have a rant,
If you feel you're teetering on the edge,
Just have a beer , and go to to bed :)

*** without passion, is like dancing without music .
Not much fun, but kind of amusing,
Lying there upon your back,
Has the ceiling got a crack?
The shopping list is planned at best,
Thoughts of George Clooney, in your head,
Just hoping now he'd hurry along,
Not fumbling around, getting it wrong,
Still not cleared up the plates from supper,
And you really just fancy a nice hot cuppa.

I have this dog, a huge great pooch,
Just like the one, on Turner and *****,
He really is a big orange lump,
Dare I say how much he dumps,
He shreds and ruins my favourite stuff,
Covering the floor, in loads of fluff,
TV remotes, he's chewed them up,
He costs a bomb, my naughty pup,
His snoring rattles the gates of hell,
And when he farts, my gawd, the smell!,
Don't let's forget, he loves his food,
Face in your cup, slurp slurp, how rude,
What's yours is his, he takes the ****,
I dare you say the word, "biscuit"
He slobbers shoestrings, from his chops,
Each room has a rag, for him to mop,
But that aside, he has my heart,
His crinkly face, and stinky farts,
Rolling in fox mess on his daily stroll,
Sniffing crotches, of those who call,
I kiss his face off every day,
I could never love a man this way,
He has a face you want to snog,
I really, really love this dog :)

I have the most enormous *****,
Men talk to them, not me, it's true,
"How are 'we' today"  they say,
With bulging eyes, to my dismay,
Oy I'm up here, I want to say,
Not wishing to destroy their day,
I smile back sweetly, a little shy,
All three of us are fine, I reply,
That said, my *****, I couldn't be without,
I'm sure they pull my wrinkles out. :)

I do hair,
It's what I do,
I work real hard,
To transform you,
Snipping, styling, chatting away,
Doing my best to make your day,
"going somewhere nice, on your holiday? "
Just to relax you, on your stay,
My mundane talk is amusing its true,
But really I'm ****** analysing you,
I listen to your moans about your spouse,
How you're decorating up your house,
I hold quiet council, unless I'm asked,
My soundest advise I can offer fast,
So remember when you're in the sink,
I'm really more  your low paid shrink,
One day perhaps, you might ask me,
How I am, and how was my holiday,
But I do hair,
It's what I do.

I have lost my Mum,
And my mind, it seems,
I awake at night,
Through broken dreams,
My moments of forced hilarity,
Encompassing delirious clarity,
Strong desire to scream and shout,
Tight knot inside, it can't come out,
The urge to punch out, at passers by,
Or curl up in a ball and cry,
Yet I walk amongst you,
Seemingly socially adept,
Muddled memories spin in my troubled head,
I want to shout out loud, MY MUM, IS DEAD,
I know one day,
Black clouds will clear,
Mums love lives on, in all held dear,
Family together we all unite,
We hold on to each other tight,
So why do I feel, so alone at night?
But I've lost my Mum,
And my mind it seems.