"smedley" poems
A queer world
My local pub won't do posh grub,
but sells beer from the wood.
You can't get wine nor cocktails
but the ales are all real good.
There's always sport, on the tv,
the wooden floors are bare;
so when two 'pretty boys' minced in,
they caused us all to stare.
Both had high-lights in their hair
and make-up, on their faces.
They ordered half a lager each
& two straight ***** chasers.
A quick look round however
and they soon made up their mind:
our rough&ready; local
didn't cater for their kind.
But, as they quickly minced away
and off, through the pub door;
up spoke the bar-room know-all,
like many times before.
“An article I read, last week,
said ten percent are gay.
Not all of 'em dress-up like that
nor try to walk that way.”
Someone said,”Shut up, you fool.”
while we just kept on drinkin'
but what he'd said, stuck in our head
and we began a-thinkin'
My mate says, “Watch the barman, Bob,
he wears a lot of pink
& holds his little-finger out,
each time he has a drink.”
They reckon Bill, who works away
and only comes in Sundays.
Goes in the cubicle to ****
when wearing his wife's ******
I know it's not conclusive
but I thought it pretty queer,
when Tommy took his wife out twice,
to see that Mama Mia.
Then there's Big Jack Smedley,
though he's muscular and manly;
he has his body waxed, each month,
by that hairdresser – Stanley.
The more we talked about it,
as we downed our beer & stout;
the more we realised,
that not everyone's come out.
We now accept that being camp,
is not the only way
and reckon that there's happen more
than fifty shades of gay!
Briz 14/6/13
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 3:42 AM UTC
A queer world
My local pub won't do posh grub,
but sells beer from the wood.
You can't get wine nor cocktails
but the ales are all real good.
There's always sport, on the tv,
the wooden floors are bare;
so when two 'pretty boys' minced in,
they caused us all to stare.
Both had high-lights in their hair
and make-up, on their faces.
They ordered half a lager each
& two straight ***** chasers.
A quick look round however
and they soon made up their mind:
our rough & ready local
didn't cater for their kind.
But, as they quickly minced away
and off, through the pub door;
up spoke the bar-room know-all,
like many times before.
“An article I read, last week,
said ten percent are gay.
Not all of 'em dress-up like that
nor try to walk that way.”
Someone said,”Shut up, you fool.”
while we just kept on drinkin'
but what he'd said, stuck in our head
and we began a-thinkin'
My mate says, “Watch the barman, Bob,
he wears a lot of pink
& holds his little-finger out,
each time he has a drink.”
They reckon Bill, who works away
and only comes in Sundays.
Goes in the cubicle to ****
when wearing his wife's ******
I know it's not conclusive
but I thought it pretty queer,
when Tommy took his wife out twice,
to see that Mama Mia.
Then there's Big Jack Smedley,
though he's muscular and manly;
he has his body waxed, each month,
by that hairdresser – Stanley.
The more we talked about it,
as we downed our beer & stout;
the more we realised,
that not everyone's come out.
We now accept that being camp,
is not the only way
and reckon that there's happen more
than fifty shades of gay!
Briz 14/6/13
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
When the time comes
That my heart no longer beats
my bones will rattle in a wooden cage
And my soul will still scream
I was once a Marine
If life takes me down dark roads
Or if I climb the highest hills
If I'm rich or I'm poor
I will still remember deep within
I was once a Marine
To Tun Tavern
And to Basilone
To Chesty To Smedley
To Mattis and the EGA
To the halls of Montezuma
To the shores of Tripoli
If for twenty or only four
It is still the birthday of our corps
To 247 I will toast and say
Raise hell and semper Fi
Do or die. For once a Marine.
Always a Marine.
Nov 10, 2022
Nov 10, 2022 at 1:08 PM UTC