50 -1789

Poem number 50
The guillotine took off his head
They’d sliced him like a loaf of bread
The blade came down and now he’s dead
Voila monsieur, encore!
His crime was being too well bred
And fairly often too well fed
His blood was blue but now it’s red
Voila monsieur, encore!
He should’ve packed a bag and fled
But lazed upon his feather bed
So now he’s underground instead
Voila monsieur, encore!


210 – Fair Dinkum

Poem number 210
Fair Dinkum
Cavemen lived in caves of course
As houses weren’t yet built
They slept beneath a mammoth fur
And not a fluffy quilt
But it wasn’t all privation
There were benefits all right –
Mammoth steaks and bison chops
And barbie every night!

213 – Essay Question

Poem number 213
Essay Notes
Hitler was a Nazi
But he had a softer side
He had a dog called Blondie
And he fed her cyanide
He killed her so the Russians
That were storming through Berlin
Couldn’t fill her up with bullets
Like they’d done to Gunga Din
So there’s your A+ answer
When your Hitler essay’s due –
He was kind to little animals
But killed a lot of Jews.

225 – The Wannsee Conference

Poem number 225
The Wannsee Conference
Gathered round a table
Egos bristling, hostile eyes
Arguing semantics
Dotting ‘T’s and crossing ‘I’s.
Whole blood, half blood, fit to work
Evacuation trains,
Sterilise the lot,
Or put a bullet in their brains,
Shower rooms in distant camps
A van with rubber hose,
Load them in and brush them out
Then burn them with their clothes.
This must be the solution
Say these men in shiny shoes
Their hands round crystal glasses
As they plan to kill the Jews,
Driven by their hatred
And a fear for their own hides
Mouthing ugly mantras
In the face of turning tides
Just men around a table
With inflated sense of worth
Just men around a table
But this meeting shook the Earth.

242 – The Queen’s Head

Poem number 242
The Queen’s Head
Anne Boleyn was beautiful
Or so the fellas said
But that didn’t stop King Henry
Chopping off her pretty head.
Her head rolled off the platform
And a lady from the town
Scooped it up and hid it
Underneath her ample gown
She took it home and cooked it
In a treasured pot of clay
And served it to her children
For their dinner that same day
“Mummy,” said her youngest
“Are we eating Anne Boleyn?”
“Yes my dear, with turnip mash”
Said Mummy, “So dig in!”
And thus it was that Anne Boleyn
That beauty of her time
Ended up being eaten
When just scarcely past her prime
So let that be a lesson, girls
Be faithful! Never cheat!
‘Cause your King is always watching
And you might end up as meat!

312 – Gadzooks!

Poem number 312
Gadzooks! My Leige, My Lady!
There’s the varlet over there!
In the trees, where it is shady
Dressed in lady’s underwear!
Shall I apprehend him sire?
Or stab him with my lance?
Or if, perchance, you do desire
I’ll ask him for a dance?
Gadzooks my Leige! The varlet
Has made off upon your steed!
And your Queen, my Leige, that harlot’s
Run off with him – woe indeed!

335 – Darkman

Poem number 335
Ye Gods! Thy mind is evil, sir
A fetid swamp of bile
There lies a mile of inky black
Behind your winning smile
A further mile of murkiness
Then fifty miles of sin
And an ocean full of putridness
Beyond your wolfish grin
A cad in kitten’s clothing, thee
A wolf dressed up in white
I pray the Good Lord takes you
In the darkness of the night
I pray the Good Lord eats your soul
Then burns your empty skin
To purge this world of all you seemed
And all that lay within.

343 – The Origin Of Faeces

Poem number 343
The Origin Of Faeces
The animals went in two by two
There was no sanitation crew
There was no one to clear their poo
The Ark got smelly fast
The germs bred quickly as germs do
The creatures wallowed in their poo
They all got sick, infection grew
The Ark soon breathed its last
The world was doomed because of poo
For even tigers need the loo
If only God had cleaned that zoo!
But no, the die was cast.
The flood subsided, decades flew
Just emptiness and morning dew
No creatures ‘neath the sky so blue
The Age Of Life had passed.

390 – November The Fourth

Poem number 390
November The Fourth
November the fourth
In London town
A group of men
Are sitting down
Around a table
With their ale
Excited but
A trifle pale
“All set?” One asks
“Is all in place?”
“Of course,” Says Guy
“So shut your face,
I’ve got it sussed
We’ll make the grade
Kaboom Kablaam
The first man smiled
And gave a shrug
Clasped Guy within
A manly hug
“I hope you’re right
‘Cos if your wrong
We’ll all be dead
Before too long
Our heads cut off
Our stomachs sliced
Our guts drawn out
And fed to mice”
“Don’t fret” said Guy
“In 50 years
Our names will bring
A million cheers
As people toast
Our greatest hour –
The fiery death
Of those in power!
So worry not
Have faith – we’ll win
We’ll torch that
Parliament of sin!”
“Hooray!” the men
All cry “Huzzah!”
And move on to
Another bar
To drink and smoke
And talk and smile
All unaware
That in a while
A failure in
A simple fuse
Will draw the curtain
On their ruse
That morn’ will bring
A final breath –
November 5th
Will be their death.
But nevermind,
The fault is theirs
They should’ve simply
Wrestled bears
Instead of plotting
Death and treason
For a rather
Silly reason
But at least
Their deeds live on
Despite the fact
They’re dead and gone:
If they had not
Been utter shite
We wouldn’t have
Our Bonfire Night
So here’s to them
Lets pop our corks
And raise a glass
To dead Guy Fawkes
And all his men
In stupid hats –
We love you all
You silly twats!

396 – 1492

Poem number 396
In the year of 1492
Columbus sailed the ocean blue
He found a land with no one there
(Except for Natives everywhere)
He went ashore with nails and planks
And built a country for the Yanks
Those Yanks did prosper, year on year
And now they rule the world, I fear –
I wish in 1492
When C had sailed the ocean blue
He’d seen that land so clean and vast
But lost his nerve, and sailed right past.