Monthly Archives: February 2012

Vincent

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Copyright to wikipedia.org

Summer days, sunshine’s haze
Cows, they graze, while lovers laze
Wild wind blows, staring crows
Green meadows, river flows
These images captured on canvas by Vincent

Four men drinkin’ whiskey and gin
In the local village inn
While ladies of the street
vie, hustle and compete…for their custom
Vincent, from afar, looks
and sketches in his book

Later, in his dark, secluded room
Vincent tries to capture the gloom…on paper
‘Though Vincent’s work was truly great
with art dealers, it didn’t rate
and real love, he could never find
Genius, but tormented mind
He shot himself in a field…

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Free Range Eggs

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Copyright to woodsidecroft.com

Her name’s Louise
She aims to please
She works for the environment
My time with her was well spent
I met her at the recycling bins
she was there with her egg boxes and tins
She smiled at me. I smiled at her
Before too long, we were lovers
She’s got the nicest legs
and she only buys free range eggs.

She’s concerned about the ozone layer
has Sacha Distel on her record player
She wears cruelty free perfume
and her smile could lighten up a room
She’s stylish. She’s cool
But nobody’s fool
She’s got her pride. She never begs
and she only buys free range eggs.

Ode to the Busker

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Copyright to sivers.org

The beautiful busker at Charing Cross, singin’ Japanese songs
I don’t know what she was singin’ ’bout. The price of fish, or rightin’ wrongs
I loved her voice, I thought she was a star
I told her I was a fan of Japanese cinema
Now buskers, they don’t make a fortune
and they entertain us with their tunes
So if you pass one and like what they play
You could help them out with a few coins thrown their way
cause they can really cheer you up when you’ve had a bad day
Thank God, like pavement artists and jugglers, they’re here to stay.

The Factory

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He works long hours in a factory
So he can support his family
The job is monotonous, the pay it ain’t great
At 7 a.m Monday to Friday, he’s at those factory gates
The factory owner in his “Jaguar” takes up his parking space
The look of envy  appears on the factory workers face
After another long shift, he cycles home for tea
He puts a brave face on what must surely be
a life of perpetual misery
He stares out the lounge window to watch the rain
and wishes he could afford a week in sunny Spain
Is it any wonder, that sometimes he gets down
For he’s never known life outside this industrial town
He finds solace with his mates in the working men’s club at night
With his pint of real ale, his newspaper and cigarette alight
At weekends he races his pigeons
One of them has won many competitions
His pigeons and his 7 year old boy
really are his pride and joy
His  wife’s pregnant, another child on its way
But still he finds no difference in his take-home pay
One Saturday evening his wife turns to him and says “Honey,what’s up?”
“I took our son to Ewood Park for the first time and Blackburn lost in the cup”
Oh! Well, never mind
On Monday back to the daily grind
for him and many others of his kind.

Private Misery Of An Aborigine

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Copyright to britannica.com

My boomerang won’t come back…cause it’s a stick!
and this shit Aussie TV really makes me sick!
The price of a can of “Fosters” keeps goin’ up
and “Oz” have been knocked out of the rugby world cup
I can’t understand it …clearly makes no sense
How could that bunny get past my “Rabbit Proof Fence”
and eat all my cabbages…strewth, Bruce!
and who the hell let that dingo loose?!
I dream of one day bein’ a free man
or sharin’ a shower with Cathy Freman
It’s those scrummy Kangaroo burgers that I miss the most
Rather foolishly sold my “Barbie” to “Ned Kelly’s” ghost
Still, always got my “Kylie Minogue” CDs
Headin’ on down to Adelaide
Germaine Greer’s no longer here…ever so pleased
and it’s a hundred in the shade.

A Man In The Bath In The Rhondaa Valley

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A man in the bath in the Rhondda Valley
plays with his ducks…it’s his time to be silly
It’s time to unwind as well
For work down the mines can be sheer hell
His wife realizes the pain that he feels
and in the kitchen slaves over his meal
His young son sings a song of hope
as his father reaches for the soap
For the mines may close
and his job and others goes.

Automation for the Nations

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In the future Robots do all the jobs men used to do
They’ve taken over the car factories, they read the news
But Robots cannot be trusted at all
‘Cause Robots, they malfunction and go bezerk, you see
The Robot smashed his way right through a brick wall
another burnt his human master’s hand with scalding hot tea
Yes, Robots are not as efficient as they seem
another cut loose, he’s firing laser beams…
in your direction
Yes, Robots malfunction
One Robot pilot went crazy, crashed a plane into the sea
with 500 passengers on board
They said “automation will benefit society!”
But they’re a luxury we can’t afford
We’re stuck with the Robots forever and a day
“My circuits gone haywire,get out of my way!”
I know exactly what an automated world is revealin’
and a Robot can’t paint with any depth or feelin’
cause he’s just a machine
and would you want a Robot football team
Yes Robots my friend, are a nightmare not a dream
The result of some mad scientists hare-brained scheme
Oh! well, ‘though the automated world’s a mess
Human beings deserve Robots, I guess…