When there is nothing left to say
Pleas, half-formed unspoken fade
No last chances on a plate
No dying breath to resuscitate
All our jokers, aces played

Reluctant still to move away
Familiarity urges us to stay
Use the door, close the gate
When there is nothing left to say

The mirage that was yesterday
Crumbles into dust today
No more fire in the grate
All burnt out so why wait
The path untrodden leads the way
When there is nothing left to say

You do not have to say anything
But anything you do say
May be recorded and later used
In a poem recited against you.

As he studied the grey stubble in the mirror
he began to wonder if rather than considering
each new conquest a success
he should think of it as the consequence
of another failure

From Grandma to you, a clock for Christmas
To hang on your bedroom wall
To show you time is useful
And important to us all

At first it's pace can seem too slow
You want to hurry up and grow
Then the years begin to fly
Till you're nearly as old as Grandma and I

But for now there's time to learn
Hundreds and thousands of things
And we hope you will enjoy
All that time soon brings

It was a summer morning. The man got up, got ready quite quickly. He pulled the door to, and stepped into the street. It was still early, the sunshine was bright, the street like a wasteland.

A small boy was kicking a football against a low wall. As the man approached, the boy kicked it towards him.  The man returned it, the boy returned it again. The man lifted it with his toe, flicked it ten feet in the air. The boy let it bounce and headed it back.
The man trapped it and left it at the boy's feet as he walked by.

'Where you going?'  asked the boy.
'To see my dad.'
'When was your dad born?'  asked the boy.
'Nineteen twenty four.'
The boy lifted his finger to his mouth.
'Ninety, that makes him ninety.'  said the man.
'Better hurry then.'  said the boy.
The man looked at the boy properly for the first time.
And smiled.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
Do you really want to take my man?
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
If you do, be my guest you can

I have to say you've lost your looks
Your folks are all a bunch of crooks
And it seems your teeth have all gone green

And if he is your choice in men
I would advise to think again
But if you're sure then please feel free Jolene

He farts a bit in his sleep
At times it's all I do to keep
From shoving a big cork right up his ***

But if you want to take him on
Go ahead I'll cheer you on
I'll even contribute a little sum

He sits around here drinking beer
To fix the gate he takes all year
He's got the biggest belly you have ever seen

But if you think he's right for you
Then I'll raise a glass or two
He's yours with pleasure take him now Jolene

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
Do you really want to take my man?
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
If you do be my guest you can