There's been a battle in my front room.
The shovel fought against the broom.
You should have heard my old arm chair.
It said, 'Go on Lads, I don't care.'
A picture of Lord Kitchener upon the wall,
'Let out a hearty rallying call,'
Your country needs you, That's the stuff.
The Aspidistra said, 'She'd had enough.'
The Sofa cried with piercing shriek.
'You are making my old springs squeak.
It's bad enough to watch you fight,
I'm sure to have a very rough night.'
The light shade called, 'That's enough from you,
You need re-stuffing you silly old Moo.'
The Tele in the corner has the hump,
It's got four legs and cannot jump.
It in turn had a go at the books upon the shelves.
But they held knowledge and could defend themselves.
Even the Carpet on the floor was mad,
Its colours were the same as the Wallpaper had.
But the curtains had the best time of all,
They kept telling the windows they were having a ball.
The Clock upon the mantel-piece,
Said 'It's time I think to call the Police.'
But what do you know as I entered the room,
All was quiet as shovel kissed broom.
Bernard Shaw.
Now do you think that this is right,
I have to get up in the middle of the night.
There is no reason why I shouldn't.
But my poor wife, wishes that I wouldn't.
Now what do you think that I should do.
Should I come and talk to you.
I once talked things over with the Sand Man.
If he can't help me, then who can.
There are many things to discuss with you,
Such as why my Pyjamas are not new.
Or we could talk about my pillow case,
And the reason why it frames my face.
Now about my sheets so gleaming white.
Must they crumple at my sight.
Then of course there is the bed.
Never a tear for me it's shed.
And on the floor the chamber pot.
Should I use it, should I not.
As you may see, I have problems galore.
The Wife is blessed with a very loud snore.
Its enough you know to make me weep,
How can she have such a wonderful sleep?
I must get up, I'm fully awake,
I think I'll go and have some cake.
I might even make a cup of tea,
And wake the wife to share it with me.
My life at night is never a bore,
Not with the Wife's very loud snore.
So just bear with me for tonight,
As the Wife snores with all her might.
Bernard Shaw.
Some twenty houses all in a row.
They gossip all day long you know.
As I go past the garden gates,
To visit the pub and see my mates.
The windows whisper, 'There he goes,
No wonder he's got such a shiny red nose.'
'He's the biggest boozer in the road,
He even beats old Mother Joad,
She can down a pint of gin,
And ask for more with a silly grin.'
The chimneys you can hear above them all,
There he goes, He's heading for a fall.
Why cant he drink his beer at home,
But a pints not the same without its foam.
Even the roofs pour on the oil,
It really makes my poor blood boil.
My own front door gives me no peace,
Threatens to go and call the Police.
I've even thought of moving away.
It matters not what others say.
But I always seem to be in the wrong.
Perhaps the beer is a little too strong.
You know I don't want to leave my road.
My drinking doesn't bother Mrs. Joad.
As for the houses, what do you think,
Do they have to pay for what I drink.
You know if the windows weren't so clean.
They wouldn't know where I have been.
I'm going to get Parliament to make a law,
That windows are not to be cleaned anymore.
Then perhaps I can drink my beer in peace.
With my front door threatening to call the Police.
Bernard Shaw.
I looked in my wardrobe the other day.
I wanted to hear what my clothes had to say.
My best blue suit, the one with the stripes.
Said, 'Hop it you, you give me the gripes.'
My overcoat, I only bought it last Spring,
Said, 'Leave me in peace, You stupid thing.'
You should have heard what my blue jeans said,
'Don't wake us up we just gone to bed.'
I next looked to see if my trousers were in place.
They cried out, 'Hey you go and wash your face.'
Next I inspected my chest of drawers.
Where my underwear is laid out in sets of fours.
Four pants, four vests and four shirts,
Said don't iron us again, it burns and that hurts.
I'm not going to my wardrobe again,
I'll go abroad, perhaps to Spain.
There I'll buy me some new clothes.
You can have the others, I've finished with those.
Bernard Shaw.
It's the finest music in the land.
Sung by a choir, that's not very grand.
The one you can hear singing top note,
Is a Black and White Billy or Mountain Goat.
No one reads music, that's not of much use.
Conducting is usually done by the Goose.
The Chickens and Ducks Keep well in Tune,
Our Farm Dog howls by the light of the moon.
The Cows you know start off with a moo,
That's the signal for the Owls too-whit and too-who.
The Sow with her Piglets, begins to grunt.
The Fox joins in and leaves the Hunt.
The Horses are good and give a loud neigh,
Not to be left out the Donkeys bray.
I've not mentioned the Birds of the air,
Wonderful how they all do their share.
The Cats of course are masters of this art,
And with their Kittens all take part.
The Cockerel is perhaps a little too loud,
But then again he is rather proud.
This choir of mine is very well trained,
Only the Church has of yet complained.
We sing our praises to Him on high,
The Poor Old Vicar, can only sigh.
His congregation consists of but few,
I'll help with my choir, How about YOU.
Bernard Shaw.
I went to the Bank to borrow some money,
The Manager said, 'Please don't be funny.
What securities can you offer to me,
Money you know doesn't grow on a tree.
I have no collateral that's for sure,
I need fifty quid, I'll ask for no more.
I said to the Manager, its not my fault,
If you have no more money in your vault.
It's a very poor bank, you must agree,
That has no cash for a man like me.
My credit you know has always been good,
Today there's a horse, running at Goodwood.
The Bookie told me to come and see you,
He said you'd be good for a pound or two
So Mr. Bank Manager, how about some tick,
Even twenty pounds would do the trick.
I'm no good at begging, I must not steal,
Just lend me a tenner, come make it a deal.
And if I win, you can rest assured,
I'll tell you about racing, You wont be bored.
And perhaps if I win, A large amount,
With you I might even open an account.
Bernard Shaw.
Baraka-Bashad, May the Blessings be,
A life force throughout Eternity.
Renewing forces of Dynamic Love,
Given to Mankind from Him above.
A gift of Psychic Potential Drive,
That Man's cosmic soul shall survive.
We are a part of Infinite whole.
Toiling together towards that great goal.
One Life, One thousand, Who can say,
All are waiting for this embryonic day.
So let that shine of Heavenly Blue,
Regenerate strength once more anew.
For Life's forces are not yet spent,
Perhaps another tunnel before you relent.
One day we know with all our heart,
That we, from Earth's ties, must part.
To live in peace with the universe,
Never again life's bitterness to curse.
We've played many a role on this life's stage,
Reincarnating into every age.
Cosmic force our debts are not yet paid,
The yearnings in birth, a thousand times remade.
Let there be an end to our dire need,
Don't let us, forevermore plead.
Is not our place in that eternal college,
A tiny mote in your great knowledge.
A process of learning in the university of life.
Perhaps finished, with this our last strife.
Baraka-Bashad, MAY THE BLESSINGS BE,
A LIFE FORCE, throughout Eternity.
Bernard Shaw.
I've got Pills and Tablets, Lotions and Potions,
Some are used to calm the emotions.
The colours are lovely, All beautiful and bright,
I take a few in the morning others at night.
There are Red and Yellow, Green and Blue,
I've got so many, I could give some to you.
The ones I take to make me sleep,
Make my pupils small and deep.
Some you know are for my head,
After taking these I wish I was dead.
Then I have some just for my nerves,
These make straight lines look like curves.
The one's I like the best of all,
Make all of my problems seem so small.
The tiny Green ones are not too bad,
If only they didn't make me feel so sad.
I'm pleased I don't work in a Chemists shop,
For I think that my Tummy would go off pop.
Now if you will take some advice from me,
Don't take tablets, Drink a cup of TEA.
Bernard Shaw.
There are twelve numbers on the face of my clock,
I know that it's happy for it goes tick tock.
It has two hands, one large, one quite small,
They go round and round as it hangs on the wall,
I think you know that they are playing a game,
Each time that I look, it is always the same.
They chase each other day after day,
Around they go from June until May.
What are they doing to tell the time?
Copying one another with hands that mime.
As they pass each number they seem to say,
Please don't hinder me, I'm still on my way.
The large hand says it's really not fair,
I seem to be doing more than my share.
The little hand laughs and said what fun,
I love seeing you go past always on the run.
Some people you know don't like my old clock,
But it keeps me happy, as it goes TICK TOCK.
Bernard Shaw.
What Star is that so shining bright.
Lighting up this blessed night.
Shepherds watchful without sleep,
Tending flocks of restless sheep.
A guiding omen, Heavens sign,
Pointing to that child divine.
Earthly Kings are on their way,
To greet the new-born on this day.
Costly presents gifts of love,
For that Baby from above.
A signal of mankind's great needs,
Gods own sweet son us to lead.
Mary's child in poverty born,
Riches in this life to scorn.
Come to lead us to the light,
On that wondrous Angelic night.
Bernard Shaw.
A house built on foundations of rock,
That will last a thousand years.
It shall withstand the hardest knock,
And keep away all fears.
Such a house we will build together, you and I.
No other abode we'll need.
Towering high up into the sky,
A fortress of loving care indeed.
Each room filled with warmth of love.
Our hearts beat true to heaven's time.
Blessed by that great presence high above,
These walls shall know no crime.
Bernard Shaw.
It was cupids arrow from his bow,
A fatal shot as I well know.
With aim so true, he could not miss,
Now all I want is for you to kiss.
To hold you in my arms so tight,
To cuddle you with all my might.
My feelings for you I cannot hide,
I want and need you by my side.
Hand in hand along life's way,
Wandering through each lovely day.
Don't worry about people, let them stare,
They say that you are only a teddy bear.
But to me at the age of four,
I'll always love you that's for sure.
So come sweet Teddy, come to my arms,
For I just cannot resist your charms.
And in my arms as I go to sleep
I'll thank CUPID for his wound so deep.
Bernard Shaw.
This proud ship is the Morning Star,
She is built of solid oak beams.
A smell of varnish and fresh boiled tar,
With brass that in sunshine gleams.
Her masts and rigging tell of ancient skills,
Sails unfurled awaiting a breeze.
Bellowing canvas at long last fills,
And her bows plough furrows in the seas.
A darkening sky a foreboding of storms,
With a hush distressing the soul.
Saint Anselm plays with fire, and forms,
Rain and thunder engulfing the whole.
Waves break over those bows of oak,
Men shudder and fight for a hold.
Many a prayer for calm was spoke,
Tall tales of despair were told.
Three days and nights, seas kept at bay,
Then calm and a time for sleep.
Sail makers repairs took many a day,
They were saved from that yawning deep.
The Morning Star is outward bound,
Chile is the course we've set,
Pass we not Cape Horn, safe and sound,
Those fathoms will be our yet.
Clear skies indeed with nary a cloud,
Heat and sickness is our lot.
Gazing at mast's that stand so proud,
Eyes blinded by a sun so hot.
This Maiden Voyage of the Morning Star,
An opus of men's iron will.
Shall we reach that land so far,
Lying here becalmed and still.
Sea-way has come at long last,
A movement, A ripple of sales.
Taking us on to the icy blast,
Of the Horns most fearsome gales.
We are past the Horn, No dreaded storm,
With sea as calm as a pond.
The Morning Star, is much in form.
For together we have forged a bond.
Homeward bound, cargo is filled,
Hearts beat higher with hope.
Loved one's waiting, need is stilled,
Hands blistered by the pull on rope.
Gliding into port sails are trimmed,
Shouts of command are heard
The memories of hardships strangely dimmed,
As Morning Star is likened to a bird.
Bernard Shaw.
I went to visit Old Farmer Giles,
I crossed most fields by way of stiles.
In some were Cows in others Sheep,
Most were grazing, some asleep.
Then I came to a five barred gate,
Now I really had to wait.
For in this field was big old Bull,
It took a long time till his belly was full.
Over a ditch and through a hedge,
Where a couple of Horses pulled a sledge.
On to the road that passes the mill,
The rest of the way went down hill.
Along the common by the old Oak,
Past the pond where the Frogs do croak.
I must have walked at least five miles,
And I still haven't come to Farmer Giles.
Perhaps he lives behind that group of trees,
So on I plod with wobbly knees.
At long last I come to a Farm,
With Pig stalls and a very large Barn.
Boldly I walked up to the front door,
Out came a man that looked rather sore.
Good Morning I said, Are you Farmer Giles?
No! I'm the Doctor, The Farmer has got Piles.
So I opened the door and went on in,
The Farmers Wife was tall and thin.
What you've come all this way to see Farmer Giles,
And him lying in bed a nursing his piles.
Come back tomorrow, when he's up and about,
So I bid her, Good Day and went on out.
On the way home it poured down with rain,
Come back tomorrow, I wont bother again.
You see I don't know Old Farmer Giles,
Going to see him was just one of my wile's.
Bernard Shaw.
Here I sit and stare, all day,
I wish they'd come and take you away.
You sometimes drive me up the wall,
As I wait hopefully for a call.
Will some-one ring me up tonight,
My nerves are twitching really tight.
Just a few words Like Hallo Bern,
To hear your Voices, I really yearn.
The wires on my telephone,
Go round the World to your home.
So give me a tinkle, Please do,
And I will say Hallo to you.
I'll tell you the news if I may,
And listen carefully to what you say.
So come on Phone wont you ring,
You stupid, silly, useless thing.
Bernard Shaw.
You know I sometimes wish I could,
Get in that glass screen surrounded by wood.
I'd change the programs one by one,
No more terror or murder with gun.
Political corruption would be no more,
With Speculators robbing the weak and poor.
This world of ours I would fill with joy,
A brand new start for every girl and boy
Mother Nature would bloom anew,
All mankind's dreams would come true.
With Birds and Beasts, Flowers and Trees,
With no more Poisons on every breeze.
The waters in each river and stream,
Would be pure and clear like in my dream.
Yes all the programs on my TV,
Would be specially made for you and me.
I'd teach the Children to love and care,
The Grown-ups how to help and share.
Each job of work that has to be done,
Shall be shared by everyone.
There'll be no more rich and no more poor,
On my Television and that's for sure.
Bernard Shaw.
The strangest things happen to me,
I don't know why that this should be.
Like seeing People that are not there,
Some say I'm nuts and should not stare.
I look at the knots in the wood,
Please untie us, I wish I could.
The eyes in the Potatoes look at me,
Don't you eat us for your tea.
The thing that bothers me most of all,
Are those green spots up on the wall.
They ask me why I sleep all day,
I really don't know what to say.
Has this ever happened to you,
While bending down to tie your shoe.
A very small voice loudly cried,
Leave us alone we've just been tied.
And then again the other day,
I shaved myself in the usual way.
The tooth brush said, Silly Nit,
Don't you know its forbidden to spit.
Now it's most upsetting you must agree,
Do these things only happen to me.
I went down town to see the sights,
A Lamp Post said, Turn left at the lights.
So turning to the right, What do you know,
I saw a sign that said, Please go slow.
So ever so slowly I hurried along,
And arrived back home where I belong.
Now I think that I will put my computer away,
And let it write another day.
Bernard Shaw.
I wish you'd please take a look,
Between the covers of this book.
It was written long years ago,
By some-one that was in the know.
The first chapter shows the start,
That set Mankind from the Beasts apart.
History passing on down the years,
Showing human frailty with it's fears.
Adam and Eve, with Abel and Cain,
The beginnings of a life insane.
This wasn't good that's for sure,
For God gave Moses Tablets of Law.
These should not have stopped at ten,
This wasn't enough for stupid Men.
He sent his prophets one by one,
Then at last His Only Son.
In his honour they built a Dome,
A Catholic Church in Ancient Rome.
But Jealousy Envy and simple Greed,
Soon Man had many a creed.
Now there are Religions galore,
You may count them by the score.
So Please, Wont YOU take a look,
Between the covers of this Book.
Bernard Shaw.
Your chemical formula, I do not know,
Some Alchemist made you years ago.
Many are the shades I've seen,
>From fiery red to motley green.
Used to keep out rain and cold,
Priceless since the days of old.
Windows of glory in Cathedral and Church,
Praises to God in perpetual search.
Pictures in a form so clear,
One must know that He is near.
So carry on this leaded art,
Glass, your beauty is just a part.
For Craftsman, Alchemist and Builder true,
All have helped in forming you.
Bernard Shaw.
While gazing in my crystal ball,
Suddenly I began to fall.
My whole world went round and round,
Are my feet still on the ground?
Thank God at last it has stopped,
The last few feet I slowly drop.
Now I am in a big glass ball,
What is the meaning of it all.
All is misty or so it seems,
A new adventure, One of my dreams.
I see the future I see the past,
There's no reality it cannot last.
The world below me is a lovely blue,
But no-one to believe my story is true.
No more human alive on earth,
All is quiet! awaiting new birth.
What a shock, Did You me call?
Now I'm sitting before my crystal ball.
I am awake, but my head's not clear,
It's the end of the World, BUT-WHAT-YEAR.
Bernard Shaw.
What a terrible thing to do,
Man has split the atom in two.
For peaceful purposes so we are told,
Medical wonders to unfold.
Then came the war in thirty-nine,
Man committed a terrible crime.
He built a bomb, of course Atomic,
Man's love for man, is ironic.
Two Cities, Hiroshima and Nagasaki by name,
Were obliterated much to man's shame.
This was the war to end all wars.
What a terrible thing to do,
We have built a laser or two.
For peaceful purposes so we are told,
Medical wonders to unfold.
We now have nineteen hundred and eighty-five,
Are we lucky to be alive.
The next war will be in space,
What will become of the Human race.
What a terrible thing do to,
We have built a space ship or two.
For peaceful purposes so we are told,
Man's old dream will now unfold.
We have met some aliens from outer space,
What a terrible thing to do,
Now we have killed an alien or two.
Human Race let me say Adieu,
For now I know what will become of you.
Bernard Shaw.
Something has happened in London Town,
They have stolen the jewels that belong to the crown.
The Queen, God Bless Her. Is not amused,
In Scotland Yard, The Law is confused.
Even Miss. Agatha Christie, In the best of her prime,
Couldn't compete with this Master of Crime.
London's Tower that has seen so much,
Was completely amazed at this daring touch.
Crown and Sceptre, Staff and Mace,
All been stolen from this historical place.
The Yard's best men are on the job,
The man in charge a very big Nob.
Prince Philip, Consort to the Queen,
Said, 'Its the best bit of thieving, I've ever seen.'
'He deserves a medal, Who-ever he is,'
'To rob those Jewels, He must know his biz.'
Newspapers reported this daring deed,
Was the Robber so desperate and in need.
Harbours and Airports, They are watching them all,
>From all over the Islands People do call.
Information, Rumours and Strange Reports,
Even the Scientists look up from their Retorts.
Television Camera's show scenes of the crime,
Commentators are speaking most of the time.
It has split the Country, On this we agree,
Some are unhappy, Others filled with glee.
For the British are strange, Where crime is concerned,
A deed of daring, Gets Merit well earned.
Bravo! The Police, The Culprit they've found,
The Jewels weren't Stolen or buried in the ground.
A Char Lady wanted to clean them, Poor Old Dear,
The best way to do it was to wash them in Beer.
So she took them home to show the 'Old Man,'
He said that he'd help her where-ever he can.
So They soaked them in Beer and polished them clean,
And took them back to the Tower, Shined up for the Queen.
This story is as true as I'm sitting here,
Singing, 'GOD SAVE THE QUEEN,' and drinking my Beer.
Bernard Shaw.
If I had a Hammer and lots of nails,
I would build new houses for all the Snails.
With Spade and Fork and Garden rakes,
I'd make some nests for homeless Snakes.
In every corner of my big house,
I'll make some holes for Family Mouse.
One room in my home, Will be for the Rats,
And in another a place for Cats.
No!, No!, I haven't forgotten the Dogs,
Out in my Garden is a house of Logs.
For the Birds I'll build some nests,
For the Flies, I'll knit some vests.
>From my very own Tailor, I'll order some Pants,
These I'll take and distribute to the Ants.
I'll build a Laboratory for the Germs,
A huge Hospital for the Worms.
For the Rabbit's I'll especially care,
For each shall have a brand new Chair.
For the Parrots and Budgerigars,
I'll build some cages, All without Bars.
New Webs for the Spiders, I'll also spin,
And IF YOU HAVEN'T A HOME, Then do come on in.
For my house will be a place for All,
Together we'll be happy, The Large and The Small.
Please wait till I find my Hammer and Nails,
So that I can get started, On the Homes for the Snails.
Bernard
Shaw.
Lucifer cam up from the very depths of Hell,
Complained that he wasn't feeling too well.
He went to heaven to speak with God,
He wanted a holiday from his awful job.
Saint Peter he said, Please let me in,
For I have had enough from Human sin.
My maker I'll ask to set me free,
Modern man is too much for me.
All my Hobgoblins and Devils from Hell,
Want to be freed from this job as well.
In days of old we had things easy,
But with Modern Man our stomachs are queasy.
Even below in the very depths of hell,
They try to corrupt me and the devils as well.
Saint Peter looked thoughtful, Then let him in,
Said, 'Go to the Lord, Tell it to him.
Lucifer went to God in his Heaven above,
Told of his woe's and men's lack of love.
The Good Lord smiled a knowing smile,
'Have patience Lucifer, Just for a while.
For the time is nearly ripe as you can see,
>From Man-kind we will soon be free.
For the ways on Earth are not to my taste,
Corruption, War, Murder, such a sinful waste.
Punishment my dear Lucifer, is no longer in hell,
Man's hell is now upon Earth, It serves just as well.
It wont be long till judgement day,
Then we can be happy in the good old way.
The way it was before I made Man,
Who broke all the rules of my Heavenly Plan.
Bernard
Shaw.
Unemployed and on the Dole,
Winter time without any coal.
Empty bellies, Wife and Child,
I only hope that Spring is mild.
Searched and searched all over Town,
Tired, Hungry, Must not fall down.
The Family depends on me,
I'm their only hope you see.
So once again with cap in hand,
WORK for me Sir, would be grand.
I'll labour and slave away, All Day,
In fact I'll do anything you say.
Sorry Old Chap, Come back tomorrow,
There is nothing doing much to my sorrow.
So on to the next, to beg and plea,
Sir haven't you got any work for me.
Once again, The reply is the same,
Do the Employers think that I'm having a game.
Do they think that it is one big joke,
To hear grown men use words that choke.
The Rent Man has come yet again to-day,
Sorry mate I just cannot pay.
With the money from the dole,
I went and bought a bag of coal.
A sack of potatoes, stolen from a farm,
To feed my Family, I meant no harm.
In future if I find work,
I'll pay the Farmer, I wont shirk.
But at the moment I would sell my SOUL,
Not to be any longer on the DOLE.
Bernard Shaw.
At the bottom of a Rainbow, So I'm told,
If I look carefully, I will find some Gold.
I am a little disconcerted as my poem will show,
For each Rainbow that I come to, moves away you know.
And the closer that I get to the promised treasure,
Other things that I see give me more pleasure.
Like tiny drops of rain on leaf and flower,
Or the sweet smells, I smell after a shower.
The song of a Bird high in a tree,
Is a fascinating reward for a man like me.
A thought has come to me it is very profound,
Who has so much gold to bury in the ground.
But the birds in the trees and the drops of rain,
These common treasures, they come again and again.
So I will look for a rainbow high in the sky,
But for buried Gold in the ground, not a tear will I cry.
Bernard Shaw.
Promises, Promises, Promises galore,
A few for the Rich, Many for the POOR.
We'll promise anything just to get in.
Parliamentary ambitions are not too thin.
Promises from the Left, Middle and Right,
Promising the Earth with all their might.
If We get in ! One thing is for sure,
Our promises are yours for five years more.
So listen to our promises, you voting Nation,
We Promise every thing, even Salvation.
Now is the time to listen to our plea's.
At the next Election you will be down on your knees.
And we'll be the ones that will promise again,
That our Promises to you, wont be promises in vain.
Bernard Shaw.
Yes Eighty pounds of Steam we need,
So shovel that coal, Till your hands bleed.
Open the Dampers, Open them wide,
Let the Fans roar get draught inside.
Coal shall burn until it is Slack,
You will shovel to break your back.
Two thousand patients, Perhaps a few more,
In this hospital of ours that's a small score.
So Stoker shovel till the Hi Lo's blow,
Keep the pumps going the water is low.
Take up your rake pull the clinker out,
Quick with that barrow the fires going out.
The Laundry is complaining there is no steam,
You haven't got time to stand and dream.
In the ward the Patients are having a bath,
But you in your dirt haven't time to laugh.
In the kitchen they're busy cooking the dinner,
So give them that Steam you miserable sinner.
In the operating theatre the Surgeons skill,
Can save a patient with your good will.
But he needs that steam, You Mothers son,
So get on that shovel let the sweat run.
Eighty pounds to the square inch, no more,
Throw in that coal let the fires roar.
Run you poor devil there's no time to walk,
The clarifier needs salting to get rid of the chalk.
Put on the kettle, time to brew up,
Eat a quick Sandwich, have a sweet cup.
Then back to those fires, Shovel those coals,
For depending on you over two thousand souls.
Bernard
Shaw.
I took my yearly bath to-day,
Lots of dirt got soaked away.
Why I bother, I sure don't know,
But I bathed myself from head to toe.
I used a bar of scented soap,
To smell a bit sweeter, What a hope.
When I tried to wash my hair,
My brush and comb stood up to stare.
My nails are in a terrible state,
Shall I cut them, shall I wait.
And what about my dirty ears,
I haven't washed them in thirty years.
My teeth like stars come out at night,
If I clean them, They'll get a fright.
The talcum powder on the shelf,
Said touch me not, I'll kill myself.
You know you really shouldn't laugh,
Its very courageous to take a bath.
And the feeling I've got is akin to fear,
For I'll have to bath again next year.
Bernard Shaw.
Parents are you both so blind,
That childish being is but yours to mind.
Give care, give love, give guidance well,
For that baby of man, is but a shell.
Deep within lies a Godly love,
Entrusted to you by Him above.
Such eyes of innocence, shining bright,
Those tiny hands that hold you tight.
Yes that is your own flesh and blood,
So let love flow lie a rushing flood.
A childhood composed of loving Joys,
Kindness and compassion, shall be its toys.
Parents heed my words of warning,
The awareness of your child is dawning.
What reports of you will it give above,
When it is called by that Heavenly love.
Will it say that you were blind,
Or were you of that loving kind.
Bernard Shaw.
Dewy tear drops on your cheek,
Barren loneliness that you seek.
A form of sadness weighs you down.
Bereavement clothes you like a gown.
A human frailness I do see,
On your visits, rare to me.
Have you lost that costly spark,
That guides we humans through
h the dark.
Must your sorrow so sadly clear,
Cling through to my unwilling ear.
For each one of us alone,
Has a wanting to atone.
A need of love forever lost,
An endless time of foreboding frost.
The coldness of that waiting grave,
Frantic efforts your way to pave.
To bring back to life, once more,
With love and tenderness, so very sure.
That you dear friend, may with me,
Go hand in hand through eternity.
Bernard Shaw.
My love, my life, my only one,
Many's the dream that we have spun.
With your love so tender, true,
You took my life and made it new.
>From you I learned how to give,
Hand in hand, how to live.
A touch, a smile, a gesture small,
Your love surrounds me like a wall.
Unendless patience did you bring,
Making this selfish heart to sing.
You moulded this being into one,
>From darkest depth to brightest sun.
As through the years together we go,
Growing older, getting slow.
My love, my life, my only one,
There's just one thing I have not done.
This I must do straight away,
Before the end of another day.
With love, with thanks ever new,
WIFE, I dedicate myself to you.
Bernard Shaw.
Walking through the grass so green,
I saw a beautiful Fairy Queen.
She was combing her golden hair,
All I could do was stand and stare.
Turning, smiling, she looked at me,
And said she'd grant me wishes three.
Choose carefully mortal man,
For I cannot increase your life's span.
So wish not before you think,
For I have driven many a man to drink.
All that glitters is not gold,
These three wishes can make one old.
You may wish for health and wealth,
Or much happiness for yourself.
Oh Fairy Queen, Majesty fair,
As you stand, combing your hair,
There is nothing that I want from you,
I have my health and happiness too.
My five senses work quite well,
The crafts of my hands I can easily sell.
As I walk though this grass so green,
Breathing God's air so fresh and clean.
I thank the Lord for a wonderful day,
Also for sending you my way.
As you may see, by my words of reply,
My aspirations are not too high.
For I have all that I need,
My heart was never filled with greed.
So I bid you farewell as I go on my way,
Save your three wishes for another day.
The next mortal man that you may meet,
Might find your wishes extra sweet.
But I am content just as I am,
An ordinary happy, Mortal Man.
Bernard Shaw.
It's not time, Oh man of bone,
For you to come for me.
Whet your scythe with sharpening stone,
But go and let me be.
I told you once long years ago,
That I don't belong to you.
I have not changed my mind you know,
For this I will never do.
So steal away you man of bone,
Don't knock upon my door.
I have a will of granite stone,
With me you cannot score.
The pact I made with him on high,
Was for three score years and ten.
When that time is drawing nigh,
You can come for me then.
You cannot know, oh man of bone,
That life can be so sweet.
So go on your way, and go alone.
Until it is time for us to meet.
When you come with scythe so sharp,
Be quick to do your work.
Don't let me linger, I wont carp,
Or act like one berserk.
As I have lived, so will I die,
Stubborn like a mule.
And when you take me up on high,
I will call you a ruddy fool.
Bernard Shaw.
Shalom, Shalom, I wish you a good day,
A Rabbi from Israel was heard to say.
On a Friday night put everything right,
For tomorrow is a holy day.
Six days shalt thou labour,
And talk with your neighbour.
But on Friday night as you put out the light,
Your thoughts must be free from sin.
You must pray to God with all of your might,
For Saturday is coming along in.
Listen to me for I wish you all well,
There are Jews in Heaven and Jews in Hell.
So Shalom I say, as I go on my way,
For tomorrow is Sabbat, or Saturday.
Bernard Shaw.
Hallo old chap, how do you do,
What on earth's the matter with you.
Strange you cannot recall my name,
We met last year, in the south of Spain.
I was with my sister Sue,
You must remember she fell for you.
You were wearing Bermuda shorts,
Whilst playing on the tennis courts.
Curious that you don't remember me,
We paddled together in the sea.
We eat ice cream on the strand,
My sister sue held your hand.
You cannot have forgotten that my name is Joe,
It is easy to remember I'll have you know.
What you have never been to Spain,
Your happily married to a girl named Jane.
Now I realise what's the matter with you,
You are suffering from amnesia too.
Bernard Shaw.
One day I thought that I would bake a cake,
The oven said, "No for pity's sake."
The sausages wanted to have a lark,
So they all stood and had a bark.
I whipped the cream to make it thick,
"Sadist," it cried use a bigger stick.
My cutlery, a knife a fork and a spoon,
Said "Please use us very soon."
I went to the larder to get some fresh eggs,
Porridge oats came running they had developed legs.
Next I looked for the orange jelly,
What do you know it had a big belly.
In the fridge I had some roast pork,
I'd kept it so long it began to walk.
My apple turnover up on the shelf,
Saw the jam roll and started eating itself.
Now some people say that my turnip stew,
Makes you run and is good for you.
Have you ever tried my real French fries,
There as hot as hell and bring tears to your eyes.
You don't have to read this stuff you know,
Just bring me a cake and I'll let you go.
Bernard Shaw
While boiling the kettle to make some tea,
A very strange thing happened to me.
I nearly got the shock of my life,
The bread started dancing with the knife.
I looked to see what it was all about,
Then a saucepan hit me such a clout.
To lay the table I took some plates,
The teacups charged me with some of their mates.
The clock upon the kitchen wall,
Let out such a piercing call.
I thought to call the fire brigade,
Or get the help of the marmalade.
I really did not know what to do,
I even thought of calling you.
But it eventually all calmed down,
I put on the wife's old dressing gown.
Now everything's quiet in this kitchen of mine,
They think I'm the wife and everything's fine.
Bernard Shaw.
What's this I hear,
Only four seasons in the year.
Divided into months of three,
Must this be enough for you and me.
First the winter, hard and cold,
Condemning man as of old.
Then comes spring, light and gay,
Pushing life on its inevitable way.
On to summer, ripening heat,
Living force hard to beat.
Autumns harvest, ripe and full,
Strange to feel the hungry pull.
Months of three flying past,
Toward the end of life at last.
Now what is this I hear,
Only four seasons in the year.
Bernard Shaw.
If I take you to the Vet,
I know what he will say.
What a lovely pussy cat,
You're the fourth today.
He will prod and press you,
Your heart he will test.
I will try and hold you,
At least I'll do my best.
The Vet will nod his weary head,
For your claws you'll surely show.
That fur of yours will stand on end,
And back your ears will go.
Then he will take a big syringe,
And fill it with a drug.
With needle sharp to pierce your skin,
He'll kill that bad old bug.
But if we both stay indoors,
Just you my pussy and me.
Soon I'll hear contented snores,
And that's how it should be.
Bernard Shaw.
Three score years and ten I've seen,
From suckling babe hard to wean.
Infant small with tottering walk.
>From my mother I learned to talk.
Then boisterous child, hard to hold,
Parents had to sometimes scold.
School days where I had to learn,
For the teenage I did yearn.
Then adulthood with all its cares,
A loving wife, my life to share.
Now I've outlived my stay,
I am coming to the end of my day.
One more breath maybe two,
Where my love I'll think of you.
Then the journey into the unknown,
Oh! how this life of mine has flown.
Up, Up, into that great light,
That shines on me so wondrous bright.
Here refreshment shall be mine,
I'll stay a while in the light that shines.
For later when my time shall come,
To this earth I will return as one.
Whose fulfillment on this earthly plane,
Must surely start all over again.
Through the tunnel into life,
Once again that weary strife.
Oh cosmic force, eternal be,
Let me again return to thee.
For many are the lives I've seen,
>From Beggar man to royal Queen.
Bernard Shaw.
Please excuse me when I sneeze,
For I am from China, a Pekinese.
Call me the pride of the German nation,
For I am best known as the Alsatian.
My name is, Sir Reginald Beagle,
You could not compare me to an Eagle.
I must admit that I'm a Red Setter,
For hunting purposes there is no better.
I call myself a pure Welsh Collie,
Rounding up Sheep keeps me jolly.
In this world there is nothing merrier,
Than me the little Fox Terrier.
Me you will find with nose to the ground,
For I am a Basset, and that is a hound.
Mais oui, mais oui, its easy to see,
A Poodle from France, C'est moi, that's me.
To feed me my friend will drive you insane,
For I am from Denmark a really Great Dane.
You will find us at Crufts you know,
Like all good actors, we try to steal the show.
I have no pedigree, or so it is said,
No soft cushions for my poor old head.
A mixture, Pot Pourri, a tramp of the street,
But a truer dog my friend, You will never meet.
Bernard Shaw.
In my back garden I've got a plot,
To grow some vegetables, not a lot.
What do you know to my surprise,
I grew some potatoes without any eyes.
Gazing with pride at my green peas,
I saw my carrots had started to sneeze.
'You have caught a cold,' I said,
Its time I think to change your bed.
Don't bother us we have got the flu,
In fact we think that we caught it off you.
All of a sudden a marrow cried,
Give me some shade where I can hide.
I don't like that horrible sun,
It melts my seeds and makes them run.
Some tiny voices started shouting at me,
You are the blighter that eats us for tea.
It was the radishes, standing in line,
Leave us in peace and life will be fine.
But I must tell you about my runner beans,
They are all over the garden, wearing blue jeans.
Some tomatoes were leaning up against the wall,
So I tied them up, in case of a fall.
You should have heard my spring onions,
Its a pity he doesn't treat us like he does his bunions.
Then of course the cabbages and sprouts,
I've upset them and they've got the pouts.
Now the vegetables that I like the best of all,
Are the parsnips running along the garden wall.
They give me no trouble, I'm pleased to say,
Being very polite they wish me a good day.
A garden you know is not all that it seems,
This one of mine gives me the screams.
Bernard Shaw.
Said the Eagle listen to my words,
For I am truly king of the birds.
No said the Owl this cannot be,
For you are filled with vanity.
Once you were free and flew on high,
Your wings of pride, filled the sky.
But now you are just a captive sign,
No more a bird godly divine.
Used through the ages by man for war,
Roman legions battled with an Eagle before.
A symbol of brass, iron or gold,
Blinding mankind now as of old.
The Austrians gave you two heads, then one,
American Indians say you are direct from the sun.
But to me the Owl, known to be wise,
There is only one bird, king of the skies.
And that is a bird filled with love,
A symbol of peace, The heavenly Dove.
Bernard Shaw.
The Barber came to cut my hair,
I told him that it wasn't fair.
My hair had done him no harm,
Without it I would loose my charm.
The Barber he grinned a silly grin,
Said to cut my hair would be no sin.
That I should face it like a man,
But I'm a coward and away I ran.
Do you like sitting in a Barbers chair,
With him chopping away your lovely hair.
Once my head was full of curls,
Covering my face with twisty twirls.
But then the Barber came my way,
I was a child, I had no say.
Off came my curls one by one,
The Barber seemed to have great fun.
Now I'm old and very very grey,
I'm nearly bald, my hairs gone away.
But when I see a Barbers chair,
I feel the loss of my curly hair.
You know I truly rue the day,
When that first Barber came my way.
Bernard Shaw.
Sitting on a cloud eating my manna,
I watched a man swinging a hammer.
'Saint Peter,' I asked, 'What's that for,'
'Is it some punishment for breaking Gods law.'
'No,' said Saint Peter, 'I wont let him in,
'For on Earth he committed a terrible sin.'
'He was a Politician, filled with greed.'
'Thought that he was of a special breed.'
'He'll swing that hammer for ever more,'
'But he wont come in by the Heavenly door.'
Parliamentarians be warned by Saint Peters words.
Know that nest feathering is only for birds.
The laws that you make are for every-one,
We don't pay high salaries just for fun.
So give of your best as us you do rule,
Then you won't be swinging Saint Peters tool.
And I with my manna, a sitting on my cloud,
Will be singing your praises, right out loud.
Bernard Shaw.
There's mutiny on the Noah's Ark
The Monkeys started it for a lark.
Lions and Tigers roared and roared,
The Elephants looked rather bored.
The Giraffes complained about the low decks,
And how it strained their very long necks.
Then there were the Kangeruhs,
Hopping mad that they had no shoes.
Hippopotamus or hippopotami,
Didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
The Pigs were in a filthy mood,
Complained to Noah about their food.
Even the Camels had the hump,
Over board they wanted to jump.
A Cuckoo had pinched the very best nest,
He certainly new how to get the best.
Then the Flies that flew in the air,
Complained that they didn't get their share.
Caymans Alligators and Crocodiles,
Shed many a tear, without some smiles.
Stories of woe from the Bears,
Noah had forgotten to provide them with chairs.
The Gorillas were the worst of all,
For they tried to imitate Tarzans call.
Now this put poor Noah on the spot,
The Animals didn't care a lot.
Then God in his wisdom, way up above,
Said to Noah, 'Send out a Dove.'
For when there is mutiny on board,
It didn't suit the will of the Lord.
Noah replied, 'Now wont that be grand,'
'To get all the animals back on dry land.'
We can thank the Monkeys for having a lark,
That we are not still living on the Arc.
Bernard Shaw.
Many were the early gods,
In stone and tree and lake.
Worshiped were the early clods,
That man in ignorance did make.
Then came the time of Abraham,
Father with child to slaughter.
But God in his wisdom, chose a Ram,
To lay upon that altar.
The early church in ancient Rome,
From pagan hand destroyed.
Underground built it's new home,
In catacombs deployed.
Then the emergence into light,
No more the sepulchre dark
Christian men fought with all their might,
To renew that Godly spark.
Churches, Abbeys, Chapels too,
Were built him to proclaim.
His was a love so true,
This God with many a name.
At last to crown the glory of his being,
Cathedrals were built in the land.
Buildings with spires and vaulted ceilings,
For thousands of years to stand.
Bernard Shaw.
Drums do beat, Bugles call,
Sounds of war are overall.
Cannons roar, shells do burst,
Who, will cry for peace the first.
Men are dying, their guts hang out,
The enemy's running, turn about.
Legs shot off, Men are blind,
Oh how merciful is mankind.
Bleeding to death, mangled hands,
Victory songs from military bands.
One more bullet maybe two,
What's the difference, many or few.
To kill, to rape, to pillage, we,
Through the years to eternity.
Shall carry on infernal war,
Women, Children in our score.
Armageddon will be our lot,
Torture, murder and people to be shot.
We liken ourselves above beasts of prey,
Not true, Only hunger kills this way.
Man with intelligence, guile and pride,
His killing instincts tries to hide.
Pain, agony on the field of battle,
Men being slaughtered just like cattle.
A new Gas, Bomb, or killing machine,
Virus, Toxin brings death supreme.
Homo-erectus, Homo-Sapiens, Homo-war,
Homo-Superior and how many more.
Perhaps, one day, Peace in our Time,
No more armies, no more crime.
A state of bliss, Of serenity sure,
Where want and poverty are no more.
Love and kindness, no more war,
Then this living would be sublime,
With no-one crying, PEACE IN OUR TIME.
Bernard Shaw.
In garden, field and forest fair,
I have seen you everywhere.
Samson could be your name,
Strength your claim to lasting fame.
Not only is this true of you,
You are organised through and through.
Your cities are not with chaos filled,
Order, discipline in each citizen instilled.
Every member of your tiny race,
Can look the other in the face.
There are no lies, no hate, no fear,
The way of life for you is clear.
Could this be a way for you and me,
To live our lives as Ants maybe.
Bernard Shaw.
Some are black and some are white,
Others are in between.
There are red and yellow, dark and light,
Many we have never seen.
From all five continents they gather here,
With speech as strange as can be.
Their habits and customs, to us seem queer,
But are they so different, to you and me.
Forget for a while, hide your fears,
For they to belong to the human race.
Give a big smile, shed no tears,
Bid them welcome to your place.
Some are heathen, some religious,
Others with no beliefs at all.
There are the lazy and the prodigious,
Some we don't like as I recall.
Say it loud, say it clear,
That stranger could have been me.
Born in a land cherished and dear,
At least I was born to be free.
In other lands so far or near,
These strangers were also at Home.
Forced to leave by deadly fear,
Outcasts this world to roam.
Once more fellow man, show love and care,
Let welcome be your guide.
That that stranger to you, may also share,
The blessing that are your pride.
Perhaps you yourself in some distant land,
If this my poem comes true.
Will be welcomed with a love so grand,
That friendships will blossom anew.
Bernard Shaw.
As he sits a pondering there,
With shining eyes and snow white hair.
What is going through his mind,
Is he thinking of mankind.
Or are thoughts of heaven his,
With manna, harps and heavenly bliss.
Has he found the truths of old,
That can't be weighed with pots of gold.
Is it nature that he fears,
As he sits there through the years.
Is he tired of earthly things,
With it's traps and deadly stings.
That place of his is vacant now,
Did he sit there for a vow,
If I take his place maybe,
Some of the answers will come to me.
So if you see me sitting there,
With shining eyes and snow white hair.
Don't ask yourself, what does he see,
Perhaps you are the one to replace me.
Bernard Shaw.
Some thing terrible that the Orange said,
And the poor Tomato went quite red.
An Apple said it was not proper,
Some-one ought to fetch a Copper.
The Cherry turned a delicious pink,
'You know,' she said, 'It makes one think.'
The Pear just mumbled it's my fate,
To be in a bowl with all this hate.
Tell the truth, Miss Lemon do,
Are all the citrus fruits like you.
Sour as a Lemon, Orange or Lime,
We seem to hear it all the time.
It is a wonder you must agree,
That none of you are at all like me.
For I'm as sweet as sweet can be.
Bernard Shaw.
The Magna Charta, so it is told,
Was written by Knights in days of old.
They forced Prince John, down on one knee.
To make new laws for you and for me.
But through the ages, it's sad to say,
That many a man has rued the day.
When Law and Order from above,
Has split the country that we love.
You see the greed of John from long ago,
Is still with us, I'll have you know.
In many lands of this old world,
The banners of hate are still unfurled.
Come back you Knights of old, Please do,
And help to form our world anew.
Bernard Shaw.
Virgin canvas, innocent white,
Raped by Master true.
Will you fill me with delight,
When colour is given to you.
The Louvre perhaps in Paris fair,
Shall be your future fate.
It depends upon the Masters care,
Which likeness he'll create.
All the splendours of the age,
Patterns with shade and light.
Will the Master try to cage,
Impressions that me delight.
What will that canvas really hold,
A picture of unknown worth,
Or will the Master's hand unfold,
A work not seen before on earth.
A modern Artist with delicate hand,
Surrealist or perchance naive.
Lines, circles, cubes that stand,
What will he then conceive.
Canvas do you know the power,
That you can a Master inspire.
Lovers of art will by the hour,
Gaze at you with desire.
Bernard Shaw.
The Dolphin and the Whale,
Got caught one night in a gale.
Said the Whale, 'I've got to blow,
It's all this water you know.'
The Dolphin sprang into the air,
You know that's not very fair.
You do it to make me fret,
Just to get me all wet.
The Whale thought for a little while,
Then said with a hearty smile.
Dolphins are the friends of man,
Go live on the land if you can.
For when there's a gale at sea,
I'm as happy as happy can be.
And I'll let all the world know,
That a Whale it must blow.
For that's in a Whale's nature you see,
All of the Whales are like me.
The Dolphin with a flip of it's tail,
Swam off in a huff in the gale,
Now this poems not for sale,
And that is the end of my tale.
Bernard Shaw.
One fine day in London Zoo,
The Monkeys were in a hullabaloo.
An Orang Utang in it's cage,
Broke out into a violent rage.
Sitting behind these Iron bars,
I'm not some freak from Mars.
All I want is to be left alone,
To dream dreams of my forest home.
The public that come here to gape,
Are also descendants from the ape.
It was just an accident you see,
That man fell to the ground, from a tree.
So please bear this in mind,
You once had a tail, to cover your behind.
The next time that you come to the Zoo,
Please leave me in peace, I beg of you.
Bernard Shaw.
I bought a newspaper the other day,
Just to see if the world was OK.
The front page story was quite a shock,
War Lords were running amok.
The news inside was just as bad,
In fact I think the whole worlds gone mad.
Rape and murder are the all the rage,
They fill the paper page by page.
I wondered if this was all true,
Such things can't happen to me and you.
Corruption, Starvation, Pestilence and War,
Haven't I read all this before.
Mr reporter, I would like to see,
If you can find some good news for me.
A story of Peace, Love and Hope,
Even if it is only in my horoscope.
You see, I am tired of reading about war,
Most of the articles make me feel sore.
I would like to read that the world is OK,
I've waited for years for such a day.
Bernard Shaw.
A potion for love, or your midday stew,
Now then old Witch, What do you brew.
Are the ingredients, costly and rare,
What ! just an onion, with meat of a hare.
Not something mysterious from an ancient book,
Only the noon day meal that you cook.
Weird chants and murmurs to make one fear,
Or do you talk to yourself, is that what I hear.
What creature is that sitting in your chair,
Impatiently waiting your meal to share.
Foul fiend, conjured up from out of hells fire,
Or a friendly black cat, with hungry desire.
Toad-stools, poison ivy, mistle from the wood,
Making herbal remedies for mankind's good.
That broom in the corner is it to sweep,
Or a means to fly, Witches covens to keep.
Are you a lonely old woman without any friends,
Just animals and birds that sweet nature sends.
You know that fear, greed and hate do require,
Another innocent victim to feed to the fire.
And you with your healing powers will do,
For your loneliness is known but to just a few.
Bernard Shaw.
Why have you taken my clothes away?
Cant I go out at all today?
The Sun is shining, the Birds are singing,
At the Church nearby the bells are ringing.
So why must I stay at home?
When there is all the World to roam.
I only need my pants and vest,
perhaps a shirt to cover my chest.
Then I can go jogging with the boys,
And share the other Children's joys.
It's no fun lying in bed,
Waiting for the Doctor to shake his head.
Please give me my clothes, Mummy do,
I want to run and walk like you.
The strange things you grown ups say,
Make me want to run away.
Now what do you mean by TBC,
Is this something just for me?
I'm losing weight and wasting away,
Getting thinner every day.
We need a miracle the Doctor said,
To get him up from out of that bed.
The Vicar has come to say some prayers,
I Hear him wheezing up the stairs.
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look upon this little child.
That's the last I heard him say,
The angels have come to take me away.
Goodbye Mummy and Daddy too,
I'll be waiting up in Heaven for you.
Bernard Shaw.
Long floppy ears, down to the ground,
Experts tell me that you are a hound.
They say you are a hunter with a long tail,
A pedigree on four legs, Species male.
When we go walkies down in the town,
The people do stare some of them frown.
What breed is that, you'll hear them cry,
A Danish Fishing Hound, is my reply.
I'm as proud as can be, when you bark,
Especially when Burglars prowl in the dark.
For you are my friend a real good mate,
As long as you live there'll be bones on your plate.
My arm chair is yours when the Wife's not around,
But when she comes home your bed is the ground.
When you perform the tricks that you know,
I nod my old head and say, I told you so.
My Hound is intelligent with large brown eyes,
He gives me a feeling I cannot disguise.
For I love my old dog, He's got no name,
It doesn't matter what I call him, he comes just the same.
So when you next see us both in the town,
You'll know he's my dog, not just some clown.
Treat him with respect for that is his due,
And my Danish Fishing Hound will be friendly to you.
Bernard Shaw.
I'll wear my Tails, You your new gown,
Then my love we'll do the town.
Dinner at Luigi's, Maxim's or Chez Nous,
The choice my Dear I'll leave to up you.
We'll eat of the best with lots of champagne,
For who knows when we I can afford it again.
I won on the races, it was not a lot,
A man gave me a tip on a very long shot.
The horse came in by a very short head,
I won't tell you what the bookmaker said.
Wear all of your jewels, you have not got many,
But at least we'll look posh as I spend my last penny.
Pay no attention if the waiter looks cross,
For once in my life, I'll be the boss.
And when we have eaten and I've paid the bill,
We will watch the waiter place the money in the till.
And if I can afford it we will do it again soon,
Now we will have to walk home by the light of the moon.
Bernard Shaw.
I've won the Pools, hip hip hooray.
Eighty thousand is coming my way.
Twenty four points, All correct,
On Thursday morning I'll collect.
Wait till I get home to tell the Wife,
This will certainly change her life.
We'll buy a house and a car,
Visit relations near and far.
Life will be one long party,
So come my friends drink and be hearty.
It's not every day that one wins the pools,
No more work and no more tools.
We'll live it up like some Lords,
Buy a ship and live on board.
All these things and a lot more,
Life will never again be a bore.
As I got home to my loving wife,
To tell her the changes in our life.
She looked at me with face aghast,
Husband mine, I confess at last.
The coupon that you gave me to post,
I threw in the dustbin with the old toast.
Please forgive me, I won't do it again,
Besides having all that money would be a strain.
There would be no more dreams for you and me,
So sit down my love and drink your tea.
Bernard Shaw.
Once I bought a motor car,
It didn't take me very far.
Her colour was a bottle green,
With here and there a rusty sheen.
Some said I'd dropped a hefty clanger,
That I had bought a real old banger.
I couldn't believe that this was true,
To me she was beautiful just like new.
Petrol was her favourite drink,
The oil she burned made a stink.
She also had one spare wheel,
On cornering her tyres did squeal.
The man that sold her said to me,
She'd go for years, just wait and see.
Her hooter makes a lovely sound.
The steering wheel goes round and round.
She's very well sprung for her age,
Lumps and bumps don't make her rage.
When you say she's got a rattle,
I just wont believe your tittle tattle.
Who say's your brakes don't work,
It's the kanguruh petrol that makes you jerk.
You've got everything to make you go,
Some are jealous and say your slow.
You are not a Rolls or Bentley fair,
To tell the truth, I just don't care.
For my car you are, My car you'll stay,
Till the breakers come to tow you away.
Bernard Shaw.
Oh you mice and creatures small,
Watch that hole high in the wall.
For there lives a bird so wise,
Silent, watching before she flies.
When the daylights bright and clear,
Then you have no need to fear.
But, when the evening shadows fall,
You will sometimes hear her call.
Lonely penetrating through the night,
Even some humans are filled with fright.
Flying, gliding on silent wings,
Through the night air she swings.
As she pounces on her prey,
There is only one thing to say.
That in her nest up high in the wall,
Hungry owlets their mother call.
Waiting with mouths opened wide,
A hunger that they cannot hide.
An Owl as mother must be wise,
For hers is the moment of surprise.
Bernard Shaw.
Walking round our local store,
I wondered much at what I saw.
A tin of plums spoke to me,
Said, 'Hallo you buy us for tea.'
A pot of jam smiled and said,
'I'd go well with fresh baked bread.'
There is no service it's help yourself,
You can take anything that's on the shelf.
I was delighted with a tin of peas,
Buy me it begged on bended knees.
A packet of something, I think it was rice,
Told me in confidence, It had been nibbled by mice.
'Don't listen to him,' said a bottle of beer,
'Too much rice makes you feel queer.'
I was much amazed at a pot of honey,
It stood on it's head, Now wasn't that funny.
Boxes and boxes of fresh dried dates,
Cried out in unison, 'We are your mates.
An envious shout from some Arabian figs,
Don't buy dates, there not fit for the pigs.
Eventually I came to the shelves of soap,
They were singing songs of freshly washed hope.
But the thing that amused me the most of all,
Was a picture of pea-nuts playing with a ball.
I said to the owner it's a very nice store,
And I will come back tomorrow, that's for sure.
Bernard Shaw.
They stand in fields of golden corn,
Those men of straw that birds do scorn.
Placed there by farmers to protect the seed,
Ragged and tattered, dire in need.
Forgotten by all the world it seems,
With no-one to share their lonely dreams.
In rain and snow, wind and gale,
Theirs is a sorrowful piteous tale.
No friendly words of compassion or care,
At best a contemptuous unheeding stare.
In the cold and dark of the night,
Who will have pity on their terrible plight.
Summer and Autumn, Winter and Spring,
Is there no-one your praises to sing.
Men of straw your duties are done,
But retirement for you, a place in the sun.
No this cannot be for you are of straw,
Man was never grateful, that is for sure.
So as to pieces you fall, into morbid decay,
My thanks are yours as you wither away.
Bernard Shaw.
What do you now I've embarrassed a rose,
I found her in the garden without any clothes.
To stand there naked said a lily,
Is undignified and rather silly.
To make such a fuss hissed a daisy,
Is foolish and in my opinion rather crazy.
The narcissus looked pale, she felt quite ill,
We should fetch the doctor, said a daffodil.
I saw him last the buttercup said,
Taking a nap in the garden shed.
It's none of his business said the rose,
To see me like this without any clothes.
The narcissus went white and faded away,
Its a pity you know but it was not her day.
The honey suckle was feeling the sun,
Some bees had visited her, wasn't that fun.
The cherry tree to crown it all,
Started shooting pips at the garden wall.
Stop it at once, a cry from the flowers,
There are other ways of passing the hours.
It's all right for you said the rose,
No-one holds you to their nose.
Just what do you think that Shakespeare would say,
If he happened perchance to pass this way.
Seeing me here without any clothes,
He'd soon find another name for the rose.
Bernard Shaw.
Stone, hard and cold to touch,
Lifeless so I'm told.
I don't find you as such,
To me you are just old.
Rising from the mists of time,
The first to raise your head.
>From granite rock to stone of lime,
Surely you are not dead.
If I hew you from your kind,
And shapen you anew.
With hammer, chisel, machine to grind,
Is that all right with you.
To me you are a part of life,
Something for me to share.
Taking no part in man's strife,
A living thing to care.
Each generation coming along,
Will look at this my work.
Argumentation will be strong,
For opinions I cannot shirk.
If by chance some-one should say,
It's only a piece of stone.
Don't be filled with dismay,
For nothing stands alone.
Each tiny atom on God's earth,
Whether stone or flesh or wood.
Was given of life at its birth,
Let that be understood.
So granite stone or stone of lime,
Sculptured, untouched by hand.
'Tis only a matter of time,
Then all will be of sand.
Bernard Shaw.
This is the tale of some poor little mice,
Their lives were none too merry.
So they went and looked for something nice,
And found it in vats of sherry.
Now mice are wont to drink a lot,
For in Australia it's very dry.
This put the vintners on the spot,
They let out a very loud cry.
The mice are ruining a thriving trade,
Lovely sherry is going to waste.
We'll stop those mice with nets we've made,
And they covered those vats in haste.
Now mice are human, say the vintners men,
It would be cruel to stop their supply.
Let the mice have a drink now and again,
For our sherry will never run dry.
Cries of strike, men in protest,
Threats to stop work for the mice.
Now this is serious, not of the best,
For Australian mice are nice.
To a tiny mouse those vats are high,
And climbing nets is rather fatiguing.
Men made ladders! with a sigh,
That to me is very intriguing.
On top of those vats are glasses filled,
With sherry, all daintily set out in a row.
Now the mice can drink and be merry,
Which is very nice to know.
Now the moral to this tale is very clear,
Some mice it seems, like sherry.
But give me some pints of good old beer,
And I'll show you how to be merry.
Bernard Shaw.
I've seen you come, I've seen you go,
But I don't know why they call you snow.
You are silent as you fall,
In fact you make no noise at all.
Whilst you cover all in white,
You fill my heart with strange delight.
Each little snow flake seems to say,
I've come to brighten up your day.
Yes, I've seen you come and seen you go,
But I still don't know why, they call you snow.
Bernard Shaw.
A mighty sound came from above,
The voice of God, It spoke of love.
Oh mankind when will you learn,
It's how one lives, Not what one earns.
First I sent a token of my love,
An olive twig with the heavenly dove.
Then I sent my prophets all,
You ignored them in your pride.
Are you heading for another fall,
As your faces from me you hide.
Will you not hear my loving call,
For I am speaking to you all.
Tis I your father, the God of love,
In my heaven high above.
Bernard Shaw.
In our back alley there prowls and old cat,
With its ears all ragged and torn.
For him, no place on a fire-side mat,
No love to keep him warm.
On moonlit nights you hear him call,
No melodious tones of delight.
He's probably mixed in some kind of brawl,
For this cat it loves to fight.
As I lay awake in my bed at night,
When sleep comes not to my eyes.
Do I have pity for its plight,
As I listen to its nocturnal calls.
Once it was loved by human kind,
A fluffy little bundle of joy.
But alas it grew, independent of mind,
And was not deceived by man's ploy.
I saw him last with feline mate,
His eyes looked proudly into mine.
He dared me somehow to share his fate,
Inferring that a cats life, it is fine.
But I am soft, I like my ease,
Independence is hard to achieve.
A book by the fire, I'm easy to please,
At least that's what I believe.
So if you see him prowling by night,
Remember it was his own choice.
Try not to disturb his cat-like delight,
With your loud human voice.
Bernard Shaw.
All my life, I've listened to you,
Why don't you leave me be.
You cannot tell me anything new,
That must be plain to see.
As a child I learned the rule,
I've always done my best.
Don't treat me like a fool,
For I'm no better that the rest.
The mistakes I made, were my own,
I make no other claim.
The wild oats that I've sewn,
Need no special name.
When my maker I go to meet,
I'll lay myself at his feet.
And he will surely see,
I'm the one that always said,
Why don't you let me be.
Bernard Shaw.
Oh me! Oh my! What shall I do?
I cannot find my other shoe.
So here I sit and brood all day,
Has someone taken it away.
I could hop around I suppose,
But then, I'd fall flat on my nose.
So if you find it, I beg of thee,
Send it back, home to me.
It's not nice to sit all day,
With nothing to do but sit and pray.
So dear reader, one more plea,
If you find it, return it to me.
My thanks shall be yours for ever-more,
For without my shoe, life's but a bore.
Bernard Shaw.
I looked into my mirror and what did I see,
I saw a man that looked like me.
I said, 'Hallo,' 'Hallo,' said he,
Be I you or be you me?
If I be you and you be me,
Then who's face is that a looking at me.
I shaved myself and what do you know,
He did the same, The So and So.
This trick of his, is getting me down,
I'm beginning to think that he's a clown.
One more look just to see,
Be that him or be that me.
If that's him, I know what to do,
I'll hit the mirror with my shoe.
If it breaks, It's just as well,
For that face of his, is giving me hell.
Bernard Shaw.
'I wish I was a Butterfly,'
Said a tiny voice, with sorrowful sigh.
Looking about me, I saw my Cat,
But she's too aggressive to speak like that.
Then I saw a movement small,
A Caterpillar was climbing up the wall.
I spoke to it kindly with gentle voice,
Have patience little one, you'll soon rejoice.
The time will come for you to spin,
A cocoon of silk and a little time to win.
Then the sun will gently shine for you,
A time of emergence for you to break through.
Into another being with wings to fly,
Escape from imprisonment into the sky.
You will fly from flower to flower,
Gathering nectar by the hour.
You will be gone and Tis I that will sigh,
For I can never be a Butterfly.
Bernard Shaw.
I caught a fish the other day,
It was even bigger, I'm glad to say,
Than the one that got away.
I took it home that very night,
My wife cried out in great delight,
Oh! Isn't it a whopper,
I hope you went and caught it proper.
Not like the man next door,
That brings his fish home by the score.
I looked at my wife with my big blue eyes,
And said, ' know that this is a big surprise,
But a fish like this, you must agree,
Could only have been caught by a man like me.
Bernard Shaw.
Master Builder, Take great pains indeed,
Use materials of love for we do bleed.
Cement your joints and bonds with care,
With strength and joy for all to share.
Each brick of mercy, Placed one by one,
As true examples by your son.
The cellar built on the rock of love,
With roof of happiness high above.
The names of each floor in between,
Shall hold your praises in esteem.
There shall be but one door,
This shall serve both rich and poor.
Windows of patience, Glazed with hope,
Eyes that see have no need to grope.
Ceilings and walls built of prayers,
As will be hallway, bedrooms and stairs.
Many are the rooms in this mansion of yours,
For each denomination, thousands of floors.
Christians, Buddhists, Moslems and Jews,
All have been told of this wonderful news.
Please Master Builder, In your Heaven up above,
Reserve a place for me, In this house full of love.
Bernard Shaw.
The nicest things happen to me,
Like a telephone call from over the sea.
Loved One's phoned, from a far away land,
To hear their voices was really grand.
On Christmas Day, this event took place,
You should have seen the look on my face.
Surprise and laughter, with joy and tears,
Their wishes for health, dispelled my fears.
In fact this day life has begun anew,
It's wonderful what a few words will do.
I face the future with no more fear,
For we are miles apart, but very near.
In Bethlehem, Two thousand years ago. I'm told,
Kings gave presents of myrrh and gold.
But this present to me was of value unknown,
A near Godly care, You all have shown.
My love my thanks, My blessings are yours,
You Loved One's of mine on those far away shores.
Bernard Shaw.
In the House of Commons, What a sight,
Back benchers were sleeping with all of their might.
The Speaker nodded his weary head,
His mouth opened wide, His face went red.
Oh no, said he what a disgrace,
His hands went up to hide his face.
The Member from Hampstead, The Honourable Brown,
Coughed and nodded, his head hung down.
Hear, Hear, he mumbled, I do agree,
Why don't they all listen to me.
It's the Labour Parties fault you know,
Why in heaven are they so slow.
If only they had listened to what I said,
We could all have gone home, Each to his bed.
The Labour MP, A man of Kent,
With snow white hair and back all bent.
Said, Mr Speaker, I'm proud to say,
No one has slept here until today.
There must be something in the air,
It's as if the Opposition is not there.
The Liberal Member a Mr. Joseph Soap,
Said, Mr. Speaker, 'There's not much hope.'
I wish that we could all agree,
Then go home for a cup of tea.
I move that the bill be accepted by one and all,
My Wife and I want to go to a ball.
As I look around at the Members that be,
It is no wonder that we cannot agree.
But we put on a good show, as you well know,
We are usually pompous and tremendously slow,
So let us now stand and thank the Good Lord,
That the Peoples of Britain, don't take to the sword.
Bernard Shaw.
As my Wife hung the washing on the line,
I said to her, It wont stay fine.
I've got this feeling that rain's on the way,
My legs been playing me up all day.
Looking at me my Wife shook her head,
The weather will be just fine, The Forecaster said.
With sunshine and breezes coming from South West,
That will soon dry, your shirts and your vest.
I gazed at my Beloved with pity in my eyes,
Don't look now Dear, but there are clouds in the skies.
It's coming up black, I think a thundery shower,
It'll rain you know for at least an hour.
Your washing will get dirty from soot and grime,
Personally I'd hang it out some other time.
Perhaps in the evening before going to sleep,
It's easier to count washing, than dirty sheep.
My Wife gave me such a withering look,
I felt rather guilty as I turned to my book.
But what do you know, to my great delight,
The weather stayed fine, and thing were all right.
Bernard Shaw.
I'm as fat as a pudding, all rolly and plump,
You should see my old belly as I try to jump.
Nearly two hundred pounds I weigh,
I'd love to know what my neighbours say.
As I go waddling down the street,
I smile and nod to the people that I meet.
Some return my smile and raise their hat,
Then say to themselves, my ain't he fat.
But I don't care, I'm as happy as can be,
Indoors Baked beans and sausages for my tea.
When I've eaten them, I know my old belly,
Will shake with laughter, quivering like jelly.
So if you too, think that I'm plump,
Then do have a laugh as I try to jump.
Bernard Shaw.
While out in the street taking a walk,
I saw some children with a piece of chalk.
They drew some pictures on the wall,
Now this didn't suit the adults at all.
A woman said, it was a disgrace,
in her day, children were kept in their place.
I saw some children playing with a ball,
Occasionally they threw it at the wall.
A grumpy old man cried with a shout,
He'd box their ears if they didn't watch out.
I saw some children playing in the grass,
The Notices, Keep Off, were just a farce.
The Park-keeper cried he'd had enough,
A very big man, I think that he was tough.
I saw some children by the sea,
The noise that they made was music to me.
This didn't suit the Angler nearby,
Many nasty things he did cry.
I saw some children a long time ago,
I saw some children, I did you know.
Bernard Shaw.
Cruel winter wind so cold,
Must you really blow.
Are your needs so very old,
To make you come and go.
Year for year, the complaints do grow,
From man, from beast and bird.
Will you bring us snow,
Our laments left unheard.
Is there no other way for you,
Your talents us to show.
Can you not think of something new,
For God's creatures here below.
Now I see you have heard my prayer,
Your strength outblown at last.
Gently rustling through my hair,
Spring is coming fast.
Through Spring, Summer and Autumn, Wind so cold,
Think of something new.
I know that you are very old,
But you chill me through and through.
I have no room for you indeed,
So keep away from me.
A summer breeze is all I need,
Blowing in from off the sea.
Bernard Shaw.
I wanted to go to London town,
The country-side was getting me down.
I bought a ticket at our local station,
The Booking Clerk gave me quite an ovation.
So, You are going to visit old London City,
I've got work to do, more is the pity.
On my day off Sir, That's a week today,
I'll come with you if I may.
On the platform while waiting for the train,
What do you know, It started to rain.
Strangely enough as the train pulled in,
The Sun came out with a silly grin.
Soaking wet and full of self pity,
I cursed the rain, the train and the city.
But as we left Dartford, picking up speed,
I felt suddenly hungry and wanted a feed.
The train was non stop to London Bridge,
At home I had plenty of food in the fridge.
At last we arrived at platform one.
I hurried to the buffet to eat a bun.
Then I walked to Parliament Square,
And sent you a postcard from you know where.
When you receive it, I know what you'll say,
He's been to London and had a good day.
Bernard Shaw.
That Son of mine is no more,
His country sent him off to war.
Senseless battles were his lot,
Stupidity did not care a jot.
For God, For King, For country fair.
Slogans, Words hung in the air.
This growing up of mankind,
Perhaps peace eternal, for to find.
I ask myself why should we cry,
Mother, Relations, friends and I.
Who started this infernal war,
We! The Enemy, I'm not sure.
The only thing that I know,
Hatred is very quick to grow.
The next war will total be,
To wipe out all of humanity.
Then no more parent will cry,
Why did my Son have to die.
Bernard Shaw.
Please do stop and think,
Before you say that we Pigs stink.
What about my friend the Mule,
He's not stubborn as a rule.
Don't be so free with your abuse,
For who is here the silly Goose.
When you say that she's a Cat,
Just who are you looking at.
I'm afraid I can only gape,
When you call some-one and Ape.
You say she's got a face like a Horse,
You are referring to an animal of course.
Or calling her a silly old Cow,
I must protest here and now.
Don't call her a stupid old Mare,
With you words please take care.
When you say that he's a Nit,
Aren't you digging yourself a pit.
Or when you once called me a Louse.
That I haven't the courage of a Mouse.
Yes for the animals I must protest,
For they have given of their best.
To a school they did not go,
At learning they are sometimes slow.
But to be insulted every day,
In the most despicable way.
You know one day they will turn,
Like the proverbial little Worm.
Bernard Shaw.
Standing at the kitchen sink,
The dirty dishes gave me a wink.
You should have seen me stare,
I pretended they weren't even there.
Now then said a used cup,
Its about time that you washed up.
What said the knife to the fork,
All he can do is stand and talk.
Look at him a saucer said,
He's embarrassed he's gone all red.
Leave him alone said a spoon,
His wife will come home very soon.
No said a bowl it's not fair,
I think that he should do his share.
Then up spoke the carving knife,
He leaves everything to his wife.
Listen here said a pot to a pan,
Washing dishes is not for a man.
After all he's a Mother's Son,
Women's work he has never done.
The Rolling Pin said I don't care,
In future he had better do his share.
Now I'm a coward on this you'll agree,
And I'll wash the dishes after tea.
Bernard Shaw.
We haven't a house and live in digs,
In fact we are just a bunch of pigs.
Our mums a sow, dad is a swine,
The life we lead is not very fine.
We'd like to go and live in the woods,
To share with mankind the worldly goods.
But sad to say this will not be,
We'll end up on a plate for someone's tea.
A sausage perhaps with real French fries,
Will this bring tears to anyone eyes.
No it's not easy being a pig,
our chance you know are not very big.
No one it seems cares a great deal,
Not as long as a pig delivers a meal.
So as you pass by and hear us squeal,
You'll think perhaps that our complaints are real.
And refuse to buy the meat of pigs,
Who Haven't a house and live in digs.
Bernard Shaw.
Baker Sir, Jack Baker, Able Seaman, late Morning Star,
Reporting for duty as ordered by command from afar.
No need to look in your book Sir, for I have served you well,
>From Cabin Boy so tender, to Able Seaman a gone through hell.
My life was never rosy Sir, as I sailed the Seven Seas,
But I was first on Sundays to go down upon my knees.
I cursed in wind and weather, in lull and in gale,
With ice in the rigging, my duty I did not fail.
You didn't make things easy Sir for Baker, Able Seaman Jack,
With yellow fever raging and I lying ill upon my back.
I complained not of thirst Sir, when throats were parched and dry,
Or of life injustices when a Seaman in my arms did die.
Many were the temptations when in a foreign port,
But look now in your book Sir, Was I of that sort.
Just to put things straight Sir, for the record so to speak,
I was harsh to the tyrant but gentle to the weak.
If some thing is not clear Sir, in your book on Baker Jack,
Let blow a mighty wind and turn those pages back.
Back to my childhood, when I was poor at ease,
A Child of want and hardship a dragging at my Mother's knees.
Let those yellow filled in pages turn slowly one by one.
I will give account Sir for the things that I have done.
But you know in your heart Sir, I walked straight and true,
I worked not in pulpit as I placed my trust in you.
Able Seaman Baker, look through those Golden Gates,
See you not my ship that for it's Captain waits.
Take up your new command, for you have served my purpose well,
Look over your reward as she proudly rides the swell.
For I have closed my book Jack Baker, 'Captain.' By God's choice,
Sail the heavenly waters and know that I rejoice.
Bernard Shaw.
Out in my back garden the Honey Suckle,
Often has quite a chuckle.
This is because of the bees,
For they wear trousers down to their knees.
In fact the honey suckle thinks it's funny,
That bees wear braces while collecting honey.
And after returning home to the hive,
They hitch up their trousers and do the jive.
You might not think that this is true,
It's not the thing for bees to do.
But I can assure you that the honey suckle,
Really does have a chuckle,
And on returning to the hive,
I don't know whether the bees really jive.
I do know that it would be a treat,
To eat of that honey that is so sweet.
In fact I think that I too would chuckle,
If I could get my honey from the suckle.
Bernard Shaw.
Out on the porch in my rocking chair,
I spoke to a man that wasn't there.
He wasn't thee, this I know,
Because he himself told me so.
We spoke together for a very long time,
Most of our talking took place in mime.
With hands and feet, we discussed this and that,
Until he became personal and criticised my hat.
I was very annoyed and called him a fool,
he himself apologised but remained very cool.
It was none of his business on this you'll agree,
In future I'll be very careful who talks to me.
But for the moment I'm glad he is there,
All though I cant see him from my rocking chair.
If you come to visit me, will he speak to you,
No one perceives him and he speaks to but a few.
His conversation is not brilliant you know,
But it passes the time that goes very slow.
One day I introduced him to a friend of mine,
They talked about me, which was not very fine.
I'll tell him very soon, not to come any more,
To tell you the truth, I find him a bore.
You see when he is with me people do stare,
As I talk to him on the porch, in my rocking chair.
Bernard Shaw.
Today it's raining cats and dogs,
Tomorrow it might be raining frogs.
If I should drink some syrup of figs,
perhaps tomorrow it will rain some pigs.
Last week we had lots and lots of snow,
My snow-mans joined the Navy you know.
Soon it will be time for April showers,
Will this help to paint the flowers.
Now I'll put on my sou'-wester,
And catch a boat that's going to Chester.
I might even make a telephone call,
To ask the sun to shine on us all.
A man I know wants to hire a boat,
Will this help him to keep afloat.
One of these days very very soon,
I'll catch a bus that's going to the moon.
In Burma I'm told they get monsoons,
They eat curried rice with wooden spoons.
There was also a man in China town,
That built his house upside down.
Now this poem is not a weather report,
And if it rains tomorrow, It's not my fault.
Bernard Shaw.
I'd love to go to Potters Bar,
And drink my beer from out of a jar.
Or perhaps I could go to Strood,
To have a bath in the nude.
A railway trip up to Leeds,
To eat jam butties, to fill my needs.
Or further north to old Carlisle,
That should take me quite a while.
I could go to Cardiff, in South Wales,
To do some shopping in the winter sales.
Should I go to Stalybridge,
To eat fresh kippers from out of the fridge.
I might even go to Bath,
That should be good for a laugh.
I could even go to Tunbridge Wells,
Become a witch and cast some spells.
If only there was some-one I knew,
Then I could take a train down to Crewe.
I've heard of a village called Long Green,
Now that's a place I've never seen.
But I have this feeling that I wont go far,
Not even for a beer, to Potters Bar.
Bernard Shaw.
Down Dartford way, that's a town in Kent,
I bought a bicycle all battered and bent.
The only thing that went really well,
Was fixed to the handle-bars, a shiny new bell.
Now Dartford town is built on tow hills,
riding down them gave me some thrills.
My bicycle you know has only one brake,
And Many's the risk that I did take.
Riding down East-hill into the town,
I bumped into a man, a Mr. Brown.
You should have heard some of the things he said,
I was really embarrassed and went quite red.
Then peddling up West-hill and out of the town,
I decided it was best to forget Mr. Brown.
Across Dartford Heath I cycled like mad,
My front tyre punctured, I felt quite bad.
I went like a rocket head over heels,
Now I know how Mr. Brown feels.
Over the handle-bars with the shiny new bell,
I grazed both my hands and knees as I fell.
Now I'm walking home, I'm well on my way,
With the bell in my pocket and the bike thrown away.
Bernard Shaw.
While out in the garden counting my worms,
I suddenly had, one of my turns.
A Pig, a duck and a colony of ants,
Were dancing a waltz without any pants.
This behaviour was rather a riddle,
For music an elephant was playing a fiddle.
The Blackbirds were whistling and keeping in tune,
I think that it will be full moon very very soon.
A Robin was sitting upon the wall,
He asked if he could record it all.
Along hopped a Rabbit with a tape recorder,
And ate all the poppies in my flower border.
Now to act like this is rather queer,
Perhaps it's the weather at this time of year.
Who are these men with their long white coats,
Have they come to milk my Billy Goats.
Why are they holding my arms so tight,
I don't wander in my sleep at night.
All I was doing was counting my worms,
I cant help it if I get one of my turns.
Bernard Shaw.
Happy laughter child of light,
Stand you by both day and night.
Gurgling smiles of sunlight clear,
Shall wipe away each tiny tear.
You will be my joy on earth,
Gathering in those beams of mirth.
Being together every day,
Tasting happiness as we may.
Childish blessings shall you bring,
Crystal clear with voice to sing.
Songs so joyful, filled with glee,
That my heart with harmony.
Shall to the whole world proclaim,
That this sweet child, doth bear my name.
Bernard Shaw.
If I push my belly button,
I wonder if it will ring.
I must be a little glutton,
To play with the stupid thing.
The more I push the less it rings.
It nearly breaks my heart,
But I'll use a sticking plaster,
To stop it falling apart.
Now my Teacher in the School,
To stop this nasty habit.
Makes me stand on a stool,
Like a silly Rabbit.
So here I stand in the corner,
I feel a proper fool.
Even Jacky Horner,
Wouldn't like this school.
But now I'm a fully grown man,
My belly button is taboo.
I avoid it when I can,
And leave the pressing to you.
Bernard Shaw.
God in his heaven was thinking out loud,
The Angels were sitting each on a cloud.
The biggest problem that I conceive,
Is the Garden of Eden, with Adam and Eve.
They've eaten of the fruit of the forbidden tree,
Now all of their knowledge is direct from me.
At last they know that they are bare,
All they can do is sit and stare.
The serpent knew what was amiss,
he tried to speak, but God said no.
In future you will only hiss,
and on your belly you'll go.
To Adam God said, 'You worry me,
Get two leaves from that there tree.
Cover yourselves for it must be.
This all took place years ago,
God must have forgotten I'll have you know.
For every where that I do go,
I see the Adams and I see the Eves.
And no-one seems to be wearing their leaves.
Bernard Shaw.
POETRY by Bernard Shaw.
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