Put 100 pounds
On a horse
You got it
Lost of course
Put 100 pounds
On bang on the bell
Lost on that
It fell as well
Put 100 pounds
On who’s the face
Guess what never
Finished the race.
Put 100 pounds
On number eight
On the off just
Sat in the gate.
400 pounds give it
One more shot
Put 100 pounds down
And lost the lot.
Nothing was going to stop
This losing run
Should have gone to
The brothel and had
Some fun

I was once a pugilist
A boxer of note
I got beat in three rounds
Against  Mohammed Ali
He became known as the goat.
I was once a sprinter
Runner up was my spot
This spot  Was not my fault
Couldn’t catch the
Master, Mr Usain Bolt.
I was once a snooker player
Snooker cue in hand
Played Ronnie O’Sullivan
For a miserly 500 grand
Really wasn’t about the
Money I couldn’t
Give a toss
You know the outcome
I got thrashed,
I jolly
Well lost.
I played football it’s called
The beautiful game
Played for Leeds United
There’s where I got my fame.
I got paid millions,
Millions every year
Never to be a winner
Now that’s ****** queer

Tycoon man of property
In Mayfair they found
Him dead.
It looked like
****** a bullet to
The head
Properties a plenty
Railway stations too
All the amenities
Totted up to a fair few.
His life started on the
Old Kent road
Was
Ended in Mayfair
Community chest
Was set up for all
So challenge me if you dare.
The police investigated
This man of wealth and property
He Left his legacy  a family game
He Called it monopoly
They found his killer
His younger brother bill
He’s gone straight to jail
For a life in Pentonville

1+2=4
This is why I
Showed maths
The door
Algebra and binary
Are they confusing
Or is it just me.
Angles and
Denominators
Maths teachers all
Base dictators.
Obtuse and
Isosceles
All they gave me
Was
Brain freeze.
Times, dividing adding up
Its not my cup of tea
Numbers **** there
Not  my thing
I ask you this can Einstein sing
Most probably.

I’ve got a terrible story
Of violence and butchery
The butchers ****** apron
Filled up many a cemetery.
Admiral Nelson flew
His flag many didn’t even
Make the body bag.
Captain cook
Natives mis took
At there terrible demise
In the Caribbean
You can still hear
There blooded cries.
The butcher apron flies
On every warship
Building an empire
For  good old queen Vic
We built our cities
On sugar cane
Through suffering
Lots of pain.
Mothers
Fathers
Sons and
Daughters
The butchers apron
Had no heart
It was all about
The slaughter.

Had a dear friend
Tiger was his name
Loved his golf
He could play
The beautiful game.
Then one day
He had a stroke
Bit of bad luck
Very nice bloke
On his last hole
He shot a seven
I asked to let me
Know if they play
Golf in heaven
He passed a way
Year to the day
Then I heard
Him softly say.
Got good news
and some bad
Good News yes they
Do play
Playing golf in heaven
But now I have some
News of Sorrow.
You are such a wonderful
Chap
You’re  in the team tomorrow.

Never closed
Always ajar
Letting people
In its to bizarre
Doors open
just a bit
For
communication
Purposes.
My doors ajar
But i am closed within
With every knock back
I’ll take
on the chin.
All I have is skin
And bone
Oh so sad all alone
Im so dark
I have a flaw
Letting people in
My front door.