"yers" poems
Old fellow old fellow
where for art thou old fellow
I'm in t'shed wi whippet and tin bath
his filthy from his walk on t'crags
you should ha seen him what a laugh
chasing through t'mud a plastic bag
Oh Fred you said it were too wet
to go a walking on t' pit top
your boots are caked in mud I'll bet
oh I bet thy breath sticks high of pop
Quiet woman can you not see
I'm as sober as a judge
so get yer back to makin t'tea
as I wash off me boots of sludge
She is the moan this northern lass
that makes me old heart flutter
but just one more word of disrespect
and I'll head in there and nut her
He is the pain makes me old heart ache
and the one that brings me t'laughter
but I'll **** him soon as look at him
if he don't respect that I'm a grafter
Teas on t'table drippings hot
there's fresh bread in the oven
by heck lass that there's real class
I love yer, yers a good un
So no Romeo nor Juliet
just honest homely folk
whom now the worth of mother earth
and the value of a joke
Let's leave em be in kitchen warm
wi the humblest of fayre
for Yorkshire folk are t'salt of earth
and I know coz I live there.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 6:20 AM UTC
wanted; - Liverpudlian rock stars
to sing fer me - the queen,
I'll pay yers all in corgies -
n transfuse ya wiv - caffine,
gorra bloke called ringo -
fer the bingo - inbetween,
support act - chewbacca -
n maca - in submarine.
Alan nettleton
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 10:43 PM UTC
I have a rose as white as snow
The beauty from heaven above
Sparkles so bright, yet as .gentle as a dove
And purer than you'd ever know
The garment of my pride and my undying ego
2.
The nemesis of the midnyt moon
I closed my eyes, imagined another day coming so sooon
Like d panacea of something I don't know
And waiting for the yerters yers noon
Craving for a love so deep...yet so low
3.
A blossom of natures impeccables bloom
I once had...never existed...how could I ever show
Hw much life you instilled in this sullen soul
Irrefutable mistakes of reckless abandon...twice in a row
If I could hold back d ugly hands of time. ..I would make its rotation so slow
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
wanted;
Liverpudlian rock stars
to sing fer me - the Queen,
I'll pay yers all in corgis
and transfuse ya wiv - caffine,
I've gorra a bloke called Ringo
fer the bingo - inbetween,
support act - Chewbacca -
and Macca - in yella submarine.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 12:50 PM UTC
Eóghan,
Hail, o pasture o' yers
'ere mo chrói,as red as fire
Yer lovers walkin down the road o' me lonely town...
With wheat yer fields sown
Eóghan,
Drunk,i danced,sang the ol' song o' ancient rovers
Calling yer name like blatherin' sober
O brother me sweet fag,me ol' stout,nothin' reefin me like this longing fer ye
Drunk,i,slappers snoggin' me
Eóghan,
Me boyo o' Cill Channaigh....
'up the yard' they told us,so ****** wrecked o' this life
Me mate ye,yonks ye been gone,
I still can see yer new basser o son....
Mate,
On the greens walkin' ye gawkin' at the stars freely
Yer grand shoes stompin' heavily
Mo cara,mo chrói,missin' ye like a ****** rover to his ol town
Yer green eyes,a pint o' stout,dancin' mateys,waitin for dawn.
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 10:11 PM UTC
We're the New Levites:
We're the early risers and cable layers,
sound checkers and coffee makers.
We're the greeters, the good to see-yers,
the washer-uppers, the kids' teachers.
We qualify by turning up,
with willing hands and open hearts.
We're the New Levites and refuse no-one
so step up today, the rota's open.
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
May God protect ye on thy path.
And all yer days, everything ye have.
Lands of yore, shores of hope, shining on thee.
What evil has be done shall perish, evaporating as morning dew.
As retreat'd yer sweet songs scatter o'er the land.
Heard by lonely rovers swaggering on hills o' man.
Caught by the wind, floating away to the shores.
Where a distant light twinkling before longing lovers.
Ye shall not be redeemed.
In life, nor in dream.
Ay heart o' yers was torn in tatters.
Ye lingered among the silhouettes of the trees.
'Tis a long lonely road ye walk.
Thru' seasons that stalk.
With evergreen trees marching by the river.
As ye watched yer lover walking away in shivers.
O God come and catch our every tear.
For Thou art the hand that built our lands.
Our hearts melting as we climb Thy banks to get nearer.
With angels and saints lamenting lost souls on Thy shores.
Dec 20, 2010
Dec 20, 2010 at 7:39 PM UTC