Wednesday, 18 December 2013

Father Christmas


 
When Father Christmas comes to town,
With long white beard and bright Red gown.
Trimmed with Ermine, purest white,
He must truly be a wondrous  sight.

With  Reindeer pulling sleigh of toys,
To give to all GOOD Girls and Boys.
With magic dust to help them fly,
So speedily across the sky.

As midnight strikes, through homes he’ll creep,
Whilst all GOOD children are asleep,
Filling sacks, and stockings hung,
Till finely his work is done.

You must never open eyes to see,
Or very cross Santa will be!
If during night sleigh bells you hear,
For Santa will not come next year.


Nelson Mandela

 
Mr Nelson Mandela!
What a wonderful fella,
Lived for neigh on one hundred years.
He did so much for peace,
And now with his decease,
South Africa mourns with its tears.

Captured by white men,
And then thrown in a pen!
For Twenty Seven years of his life.
Still fighting for peace,
He gained his release!
To join up with Winnie his wife.

They called him a fool,
But he got to rule!
As soon as the Blacks got their vote.
No more Black against White!
No more reason to fight,
They should put his face on a note.

In another hundred years,
When the worlds shed its’ tears,
Let’s hope, they remember, those who can.
His long fight against Apartheid!
And they celebrate with pride,
Mr Nelson Mandela the man.

The Squirrel


With those bright eyes,
And large bushy tail.
He leaps tree to tree,
Without any fail.
Then scurries cross carpet,
Of leaves on the floor!
Searching for the larder,
He’d prepared months before.

Sitting bolt upright,
On only two feet.
He breaks into nut,
And savours the treat.
Whilst all of the time,
His ears scan the air!
For the sound of anything,
That’s moving out there.

Hastily feeding on,
Nuts and Pine Cone!
Constantly fearful of,
Attack whilst alone,
Startled, he runs,
And climbs nearest tree!
Till safe, in the cover,
Of the large Canopy.


The Clutha

It dropped like a stone,
But no one knows why!
The Police helicopter,
Was unable to fly.

Crashing through the roof,
Of the full Clutha pub,
As hundreds of people,
Were  enjoying their grub.

Ten  people were killed,
And lots more were hurt,
It could have been worse though,
And that’s’ a dead cert.

Police, Ambulance, and Firemen,
Were quick on the scene!
With survivors and helpers,
They worked as a team.

Pulling out the people,
And sitting them down!
Midst the Chaos and Mayhem,
Of this large Glasgow town.


So many families,
With loved ones so dear!
Will be left broken hearted,
What with Christmas so near.


Infectious Behaviour

Here I am, lying in my bed,
With runny nose and aching head!
Throat that’s sore and dry as dust,
In medicines I’ll have to trust.

So in my bed I’ll have to stay,
With drink to last me through the day!
Hot water bottle at my feet,
That’s generating lots of heat.

With aching bones, and feeling cold,
It’s harder, now I’m getting old!
To fight off any small infection,
I’m glad I had that flu injection.

For three days now, I have been trying,
To get better, but I think I’m dying.
What’s a bloke like me to do?
This aint no cold, this is MAN FLU.

Flights Of Fancy (the Red Bull Flugtag)

They come from every point on Earth,
And launch themselves,
For what it’s worth.!
From end of pier,
Into the sea,
And a giant bird pretend to be.
With wings of cardboard,
 strapped to their arm.
They gather speed,
With some alarm.
Some with faces,
Racked with fear!
Only to plummet,
Off end of the pier.
With woops of derision,
Or cheers of delight!
Some are successful,
And actually take flight.

Aunty Pats' Cat ( WARNING may Offend )


Now my Aunty Pat ,
Has got a large cat.
It’s coat is rather quite bushy.
At night when at home,
When she’s all alone,
She really likes stroking her pussy.

Now her boyfriend Tim!
Who’s really quite dim,
Calls it his little fur ball.
Thinks it only polite!
To feed it two times a night.
And Pat doesn’t mind that at all.

Now my Aunty Pats’ Cat,
Is getting quite fat!
Was it something in the food that it loves?
Now her boyfriend Tim!
Said “don’t blame it on him”
He didn’t know he should have worn gloves.