THE BASTARD BUSH

First of all,sorry I've neglected my efforts to save The World over the past few months.What with the World Cup-the Australian football season and pretty girls waving pom-poms--I've kind of forgotten about The World.
I'm not much for swearing,I'll sometimes swear in a joke,but as a rule not in general language.If I should hit my finger when banging in a nail with a hammer I might let one go-----or if I really hate something,and want people to know just how much I hate it,I'll use one to let them know exactly what I mean.This is the reason I believe such words were invented,not as young people seem to think something to join two other words together.
I hate whats going on at the moment,and what really got my goat up this week was George W Bush using his power of veto to stop funds helping with stem cell research---he doesn't want to kill emryos,he sees it as murder.He won't use early life cells to advance help in so many illness's on this planet--but he'll authorise others, or turn a head while born children are blown to pieces by his bombs or other peoples.George Bush you are a bastard of the highest degree--and a hypocrite.

THE BASTARD BUSH

NEVER,IN ALL MY YEARS
(AND I SAY THIS WITH SOME DISGRACE)
HAVE I HAD THE URGE,TO MEET A MAN
AND SPIT,INTO HIS FACE.
HOW YOU STAND THERE,WITH YOUR STUPID LOOK,
THAT SMIRK,AND KNOW ALL SMILE.
NEVER HAS A MAN WALKED THIS EARTH
SO TWO FACED,CRUEL AND VILE.
YOU,ARE A BASTARD GEORGE W BUSH,
AND A HYPOCRITE AS WELL
NO OTHER MAN THAT STOOD THIS LAND
DESERVED MORE,TO END IN HELL.

IT SEEMS OK TO BLOW UP KIDS,
WITH MORTAR AND ROCKET SHELLS,
YET,YOU CALL IT MURDER RESEARCH
USING EARLY LIFE STEM CELLS.
YOU'RE NOT FOR THE MEN THAT SHAKE,
OR WOMEN WHO FORGET,
POOR SOULS DYING FROM CANCER,
WHO YOU COULD HELP,BUT YET
YOU HIDE BEHIND YOUR JESUS,
AND STAND BESIDE YOUR GOD,
THOUGH DESERT SO MANY PEOPLE
YOU EVIL VICIOUS SOD.

AND YOU TALK OF STEM CELL MURDER,
HOW YOU'D LIKE TO HELP THE ILL,
BUT YOU CAN'T WITHIN YOUR CONCIENCE
ANOTHER EMBRYO KILL.
I'VE SEEN IRAQ,AFGHANISTAN
NOW ISREAL AND THE LEBANON.
I'VE SEEN THE FRIGHTENED PEOPLE
AND A THOUSAND KILLED BY BOMBS.
I SEE CHILDREN MISSING ARMS AND LEGS,
A FATHER CARRYING DEAD.
I SEE MOTHERS NURSING BABIES
WITH BULLETS IN THEIR HEAD.

I KNOW,WE'RE JUST THE COMMON FOLK,
THAT DOESN'T HAVE A CLUE.
WE,ORDINARY PEOPLE
THAT DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO.
YOU SAY "I DON'T BELIEVE IN KILLING LIFE"
"SHUT UP" WE'VE HEARD ALL THAT BEFORE
AND THEN YOU STAND,OR LEND A HAND
IN ANOTHER BLOODY WAR.
BUT,YOUR DAY WILL COME,MR BUSH
YOUR DEATH WILL COME,ITS TRUE
AND WHEN YOU'RE REACHING OUT FOR HELP,
LISTEN MATE--------"FUCK YOU."

GOOD EVENING FROM CANBERRA STADIUM

MAD TONE AKA "THE PARRAMATTA POET" ON THE PARRAMATTA FORUM,HAS BECOME A LEGEND IN HIS OWN LUNCHTIME--(IF YOU ARE SAD ENOUGH TO HAVE A LOOK DO A SEARCH parraeels AND GO TO THE FORUM.)ANYWAY,I'VE TAKEN TO PUTTING ALL MY COMMENTS AND ITEMS IN VERSE AND THEY SEEM TO LIKE IT.I THINK I MIGHT HAVE TO START A NEW BLOG FOR SPORTING TYPE POEMS--I'D STARTED THIS ONE IN AN EFFORT TO SAVE THE WORLD--BUT OF LATE THEY ALL SEEM TO BE ON SPORT.THAT MAY BE FOR THE FUTURE,ANYWAY THIS IS MY REPORT ON THE PARRAMATTA GAME THAT ENDED AN HOUR AGO PARRAMATTA V CANBERRA 1/7/06

GOOD EVENING,PARRAMATTA FANS,
FROM CANBERRA STADIUM,SATURDAY NIGHT,
TO WATCH OUR MIGHTY PARRA EELS
AGAINST THE RAIDERS FIGHT.
THE USUAL A.C.T WEATHER FOLKS,
AND I WANT YOU ALL TO KNOW IT
I'M FREEZIN ME BLEEDIN NUTS OFF,
POOR PARRAMATTA POET!

OUR LADS,WERE REALLY PUTTING IN,
WHEN EARLY IN THE GAME.
A GOOD LONG PASS FROM TIMMY SMITH
AND IN WENT JARRYD HAYNE.
CONVERSION BRETT DELANEY,
FOUR MINUTES ON,JOHNNY MORRIS DOES THE SAME,
BALL WIDE OUT,TO THE WING,
OUR JARRYD'S IN AGAIN.

WITH GOOD DEFENCE,WE KEPT THEM OUT,
AND.HALFTIME IS LOOMING NEAR,
RIGHT ON THE SIREN,WE LET ONE IN.
TEN-SIX,AND TIME FOR BEER.
AHEAD AT THE BREAK ONCE AGAIN,
WE'VE BEEN DOING IT ALL SEASON
BUT,WE'LL KONK OUT,UNFIT AND FAT
THAT SEEMS TO BE THE REASON.

SECOND HALF JUST STARTED,
BARELY TIME TO TAKE MY SEAT,
WHEN TIM,SLIPS IT TO MORRISSON
WITH JUST THE BACKS TO BEAT.
A TWIST,A TURN,A SHIMMY
AND HEAPS OF STRENGTH AND MIGHT,
HE PUTS OUR TEAM FURTHER AHEAD,
COULD THIS BE OUR NIGHT?

WE COULD HAVE SEWN IT UP FROM THERE,
WITH TWO MORE TRIES,WE SURE WOULD
BUT THAT SILLY BLOOMIN POMMIE REF,
RULED THE PASSES FORWARD.
AND,THE RAIDERS GOT ANOTHER ONE,
THAT ADDED TO THE PAIN
THEY'LL ONLY NEED TO GET ONE MORE,
OH WELL,HERE WE GO AGAIN.

BUT,WE DIDN'T,WE HUNG IN THERE
WITH DETERMINATION,RARELY SEEN,
AND PARRA,WERE THE VICTORS,
TWELVE POINTS TO EIGHTEEN.
SO FOLKS,THATS ALL FROM CANBERRA,
THE TEAM WE FINALLY BEAT.
SIGNING OFF "PARRAMATTA POET,
ARSE FROZEN,TO THE SEAT."

"THE PARRAMATTA BEER SQUAD"

I'll try to make this my last sporting one for a while,though its not really sporting.its more of a social issue.We hear it the World over,may it be Wayne Rooney getting drunk in England or Tim Smith getting drunk in Sydney.These lads that as youngsters were discovered to be able to kick,or throw a ball about better than most--suddenly become role models.Why? How? The poor sods are put under a spotlight by the media and expected to behave,because youngsters look up to them.Once again How? Why? They are good at what they do,and thats all.
Some of the lads at my Parramatta club have been in trouble lately,what with girls and drinks etc.All the things that young doctors,solicitors and NEWSPAPER REPORTERS do.But we never hear of it do we? We take kids from schools,pay them a whole lot of money,with very little training on how to look after it,and themselves.Then they get a bucket dumped on them when the slip up."It didn't happen in the old day"-----Bullshit,yes it did. I give you "The Parramatta Beer Squad" obviously names such as Tim,Piggy,Hayne,The Guru,Hindy,Nate are all Parramatta players.Chook Raper was an Australian International,way back when players didn't used to get in trouble-----yeah right!.

"THE PARRAMATTA BEER SQUAD"

"WE DON'T WAVE SILLY POM-POMS,
AND WE DON'T WEAR SKIMPY SKIRTS,
WE'RE THE PARRAMATTA BEER SQUAD,
AND WE WEAR FOOTY SHIRTS."

"LINE EM UP" SAID PIGGY
TIM SAID"I'LL HAVE SOME AS WELL,
WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN TRAINING,
AH,BUT WHAT THE HELL?
WE ALL PLAYED SHOCKING LAST WEEK,
ANOTHER BLOODY LOSS,
BUT HALF THE BOYS ARE MOVING ON,
AND WE DON'T GIVE A TOSS."

BRING THE BOYS HOME HINDY,
THEY'VE BEEN ON THE GROG ALL NIGHT,
HAYNE'S BEEN BITING SHEILAS
AND NATE PUNCHED OUT THE LIGHT.
"HEY BOYS,WHERE'S THE GURU?"
THE BLUES SELECTORS SAID.
"HE'S HOME ALONE,CAN'T HEAR THE PHONE,
AND STILL IN BLOODY BED."

OF COURSE THIS DIDN'T HAPPEN,
THEY SAY,IN YEARS GONE BY.
"ALL WE DID WAS WORK AND TRAIN,
AND TRY,AND TRY,AND TRY."
BUT,I DON'T THINK IT WAS DRINKING MILK,
IT MUST HAVE BEEN MORE THAN THAT,
THAT LEFT CHOOK RAPER NAKED,
EXCEPT,THATS FOR HIS HAT.

BUT,WE DON'T WAVE SILLY POM-POMS,
AND WE DON'T WEAR FRILLY SKIRTS,
WE'RE THE PARRAMATTA BEER SQUAD,
AND WE WEAR FOOTY SHIRTS.

WHEN FUI BECOMES A LEGEND

Another sporting one I'm afraid----Parramatta, my rugby league team have had a real crap year--after finishing top of the ladder last year,this year with the very same players we are playing HORRIBLE can't win a trick,our Coach was sacked pre-season,but left in charge for the season (made no sense)all the players are mucking up,getting pissed,and biting women or beating up lift lights after having a belly full of lunatic soup.The one light in the whole season ,is the form of one Fuifui Moimoi--(pronounced foo ee foo ee moi moi) I believe his origin is Tongan.A bit of a loose cannon at times---he's been suspended many times,head high tackles etc,and only this past week or so was accused,though cleared of biting --But he is playing really good,and has become a crowd pleaser.I reckon he is the foundation on which we shall build once more a GREAT Parramatta team.All teams,once a legend is born,name things after them--obviously the names mentioned,are Parramatta legends of a forgone era.Great players of which Fuifui Moimoi will become of in years to come.

WHEN FUI BECOMES A LEGEND

WHEN FUI,BECOMES "A LEGEND"
WHAT WILL WE CALL HIS PLACE?
THIS PARRAMATTA POWERHOUSE
THAT SETS THE FRONT ROWS PACE.
A MAN OF STEEL,AND GRITTED TEETH,
THOUGH,SOMETIMES MISUNDERSTOOD.
FREQUENTLY SUSPENDED.
BUT,WHEN HE'S NOT
HE'S BLOODY GOOD.

WE'VE GOT THE MICHAEL CRONIN STAND,
KEN THORNETT,HAS GOT ONE TOO.
STERLO AND KENNY HAVE THEIR HILLS,
AND,PRICEY'S LOUNGE,TO NAME A FEW.
SO,WHAT'S LEFT FOR OUR HERO?
WHAT'S LEFT TO BARE HIS NAME?
AFTER FUI LEADS US TO THE TOP
ONCE MORE,TO RULE OUR GAME.

WHAT ABOUT "THE FUI FOYER"
AS WE ENTER FROM THE STREET?
WHERE WE COULD MEET OUR FRIENDS "HEAD HI!"
YEP,THAT WOULD BE REAL NEAT.
OR,THE FUIFUI FOOD BAR
SELLING PIES AND CHIPS AND MORE,
ALL COULD DROP IN FOR A BITE
WHERE THE MEAT IS SERVED UP RAW.

ALL THE OLD GIRLS LOVE YOUNG FUI,
FROM THEIR SEATS I'VE HEARD THEM GIGGLE,
AS THEY WATCH THIS FINE YOUNG SPECIMEN
I'VE SEEN THEM SQUIRM AND WRIGGLE.
SO,I'M SURE OUR OLDER LADIES
WOULD SHOUT AND SCREAM WITH JOY.
IF HE WERE MADE PARRAMATTA,OFFICIAL
"FUIFUI TOY BOY"

OR,WHAT ABOUT THAT PRAT THAT STANDS
ON THE FIELD ,PRE-MATCH EACH GAME.
WE COULD GIVE,THAT THING HE HOLDS
OUR SPECIAL PLAYERS NAME.
I COULD SEE HIM THERE,MICK MARTIN,
AND EACH TIME WE'D HEAR A GROAN
AS HE SHOUTS THINGS,WE DON'T UNDERSTAND,
DOWN "THE MOIMOI MOICROPHONE"

A TRIBUTE TO A FUTURE LEGEND THE GREAT FUIFUI MOIMOI 22/6/06

"ALL THERE IN BLACK'N'WHITE"

Wife of former Wisbech Town F C manager Roy McManus,Liz (who by the way does the best tripe and onions of any b & b in the Wisbech area)is a serial pest with emails.If you want your inbox to be full of total crap,with the odd smattering of good stuff,do what I did and get yourself on her mailing list.Anyway,the other day along with an email regarding the sexual habits bishee-barny bees (lady-birds),she suggested I should write a poem on The World Cup.So,I did.There you go Liz,I give you

ALL THERE IN BLACK'N'WHITE


LAST NIGHT,I HAD THE STRANGEST DREAM,
IT SURELY WOKE ME UP.
WHEN I DREAMPT THAT 'MOTHER ENGLAND'
HAD WON,THE WORLD CUP.
IT WAS ALL SO REAL AND VIVID,
YOU COULD SWEAR,THAT I WAS THERE.
AS I SAW THE ENGLAND CAPTAIN
RAISE THE TROPHY IN THE AIR.

IN THE GROUPS,WE'D REALLY STARTED SLOW,
FIRST WAS NIL ALL DRAW.
BUT WE SCORED TWO IN THE NEXT ONE,
AND IN THE THIRD,A COUPLE MORE.
SO,THAT HAD PUT US TOP OF GROUP,
WE,TO THE QUARTER FINALS FLEW.
IN THAT,THOUGH WE ONLY NETTED ONE,
BUT,THEY GOT NONE,WE'RE THROUGH.

TO THE SEMI FINALS OFF WE WENT
OUR JOB WAS THREE PARTS DONE.
WE SLOTTED HOME TWO GOALS THAT DAY,
OUR FOES, COULD GET BUT ONE,
THE FINAL,WE HAD MADE IT.
WE WERE READY,WE WERE PUMPED,
BUT AFTER TWELVE WE LET ONE IN
TO AN EARLY LEAD THEY'D JUMPED.

ON EIGHTEEN MINUTES,WE GOT IT BACK,
BY SEVENTY EIGHT,WE'D GONE AHEAD.
BUT RIGHT ON NINETY,THEY EQUALIZED
NINETY SEVEN THOUSAND FANS,STUNNED DEAD.
IN EXTRA TIME OUR MEN MARCHED ON,
THEY WERE TIRED,AND THEY WERE SORE.
BUT RULE BRITANIA RULED THE WAVES,
WHEN, THE HAMMER HIT TWO MORE.

WHAT?

THE HAMMER HIT TWO MORE.

AND NOBBY HELD THE CUP ON HIGH,
HE SKIPPED AS ROUND HE WENT.
THE SMILING FACE OF GEOFFREY HURST,
HIS HAT-TRICK HEAVEN SENT.
GORDON BANKS HAD KEPT THEM OUT,
RAY WILSON AND GEORGE COHEN
BOBBY MOORE,JACK CHARLTON,MARTIN PETERS
WERE STARS.THAT JUST KEPT GOIN'
ROGER HUNT,BOBBY CHARLTON,NOT FORGETTING ALAN BALL
ELEVEN HERO'S ON THAT DAY,
MADE ALF RAMSEY "KING OF ALL".

THE THIRTIETH JULY,NINETEEN SIXTY-SIX
A DATE THATS ETCHED IN STONE.
UNTIL THAT IS,SAME TIME THIS YEAR
WHEN WE BRING THE TROPHY HOME.
WELL,I SUPPOSE THIS ALL EXPLAINS ONE THING,
THE MYSTERY OF THE NIGHT.
IT EXPLAINS TO ME THE REASON,
IT WAS ALL,IN BLACK'N'WHITE

DANCE LITTLE ELLIE--DANCE

This is a poem for a special girl--I won't mention who she is,she's not known as Ellie,only to those "in the know".But I do hope she will find this poem special and a extra special gift from me.

DANCE LITTLE ELLIE,DANCE.

DANCE LITTLE ELLIE,DANCE.
SEE? YOU'RE FLOATING,JUST LIKE A CLOUD.
DANCE LITTLE ELLIE DANCE,
MAKE POPPY,OH SO PROUD.
RING A RING A ROSIE,
A TEAPOT,SHORT AND STOUT.
ONE DAY,YOU'LL BE A BIG GIRL,
THATS WHAT LIFE'S ALL ABOUT.

DANCE FOR ME ELLIE,DANCE,
I'LL WATCH YOU GLIDE ACROSS THE FLOOR,
MY PRETTY,SILVER WINGED ANGEL-
"BRAVO--MORE,MORE,MORE"
DANCE FOR ME ELLIE,DANCE
YOU'RE GROWING UP AND HOW,
BEAUTIFUL AND GRACEFUL,
ALMOST A BIG GIRL NOW.

DANCE FOR ME ELLIE,DANCE,
ON POINTED TOE YOU GO.
MY PRIMA BALERINA,
THATS WHAT YOU ARE YOU KNOW?
DANCE FOR ME ELLIE,DANCE
KICK YOUR LEGS TOWARD THE SKY,
YOU KNOW ,THAT I'LL BE WATCHING
AS MY CLOUD GOES PASSING BY.

DANCE FOR ME ELLIE,DANCE.
WHY? STILL I LOOK, YOU SEE?
I'M WATCHING NOW YOU'VE GROWN UP
ALTHOUGH YOU CAN'T SEE ME.
YOU KNOW,I'LL ALWAYS BE THERE
AND I'LL FIND YOU IN LIFES CROWD.
KEEP DANCING FOR ME ELLIE,
YOU'VE MADE YOUR POPPY PROUD.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LADY ASH OF LEIGH

Pete,happens to be my best mate (I actually have three best male mates of which he's one)He's my wife's(Julie) cousin's husband.He's the father of three of my nieces,borderline pervert,but all round good chap.The three girls Ashleigh,Jenna and Tayla are three of the most lovely kids you'd ever meet--well mannered,loving and talented,all of which they obviously get from their mother Sue,because Pete is none of the above--as I said borderline pervert,ill mannered,drinks, swears and is a constant serial pest on the email.I've written before about Ashleigh in "Lady Ash Of Leigh".She is Pete and Sue's eldest and has just turned eighteen.The party is this week and Pete asked me to write something for her---how the hell I'm supposed to keep churning this stuff out when he has three kids all as good as eachother I don't know.As a writer I hope one of them turns out to be a real bitch--so I can write as such,but as an uncle,I want them to stay just the way they are.By the way to my English readers,a Violet Crumble is something like a Crunchie (choc covered honeycombe)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LADY ASH OF LEIGH

"HEAR YE,HEAR YE,HEAR YE ,HEAR YE,
GATHER ROUND AND HARK TO ME.
AS WE CELEBRATE THE BIRTHDAY
OF LADY ASH OF LEIGH.
T'WAS EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO,
PLUS NINE MONTHS,TWO WEEKS,ONE DAY,
SINCE DADDY, JUMPED ON MUMMY
AND ASH WAS ON HER WAY.
SUCH A PRETTY BOUNCING BABY GIRL,
AS PARENTS,THEY SURE HAD LUCK
WHEN SHE WAS PULLED INTO THE WORLD
WITH AID OF FAUCEPS,ROPE AND TRUCK.

A BEAUTIFULL HEAD OF DARKENED HAIR,
BUT,(AND DON'T TAKE THIS AS A GRUMBLE)
BRUNETTE ON OUTSIDE,BLONDE WITHIN.
SO WE CALL HER "VIOLET CRUMBLE"
SHE'S NEVER GIVEN ANY TROUBLE,ASH
WITH HER SISTERS SHARING TOYS,
AND NOW SHE'S GETTING OLDER
SHE EVEN SHARES THE BOYS.
NOT THAT HE'S MUCH TO TALK ABOUT,
AND T'WOULD SEND THE SUBJECT SOUR.
DAD,BEING A LIFETIME PARRA EEL,
WHILE "THE DOPE" RUNS ON PANTHER POWER.

BUT,I'M NOT WASTING TIME ON HIM,
HE'S JUST A PENRITH PEST,
BUT,THATS ANOTHER STORY
AND IT'S ASHLEIGH WHO'S OUR GUEST.
NOW,THAT SHE HAS GROWN UP
GONE ARE DIRTY HABITS
NO MORE HIDDEN BRA'S AND PANTS,
BARBIE DOLLS OR MOLLY RABBITS.
SHE EVEN HAS A CAR YOU KNOW?
SO NOW,HER SICKO DAD,
NO TRIPS TO CHEERGIRL TRAINING.
HE MISSES OUT---TOO BAD.

SO,LADIES RAISE YOUR GLASSES,
AND FELLAS,RAISE YOUR BEERS
LETS ALL BE UPSTANDING
AND GIVE THE GIRL THREE CHEERS

"HIP HIP HOORAY,HIP HIP HOORAY HIP HIP HOORAY"

MAY ALL YOUR DAYS BE HAPPY,
AND MANY MORE TO THEE
HAPPY EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY
OUR LADY,ASH OF LEIGH

WAS IT SADDAM,OSAMA OR WHO ?

This week Australia suffered its very first loss in Iraq.Private Jake Kovco died at the hands of a single bullet to his head,in his own quarters.It's a little odd,his death.They at first said it was an accident,but Jake knew guns like the back of his hands.He could take his own gun apart and put it together with his eyes shut.The powers that be then changed their minds,there is now to be a full enquiry into his death.Fact reamains --he's dead.He leaves behind a wife Shelley,and two lovely young children Tyrie and Alana.To make things totally vile,the wrong body was shipped from Iraq to Australia--so much for looking after our own.It seems the repatriation of our fallen is handled by a private company in Kuwait--how shithouse is that--fights for our country,dies,truth a mystery and on top of that ship the wrong remains to his family.I believed there was a point to this war--that point has not only dissapeared--I no longer believe half the shit I'm being fed by any of our leaders.Its time to get out---I dedicate this poem To Jake Kovco and his family.

WAS IT SADDAM,OSAMA OR WHO?

THE BAND STRUCK A CHORD,PLAYING "GOD SAVE THE QUEEN"
"WALTZING MATILDA" OR WAS IT "OLD GLORY"
LET THE DAYS ALL BE DONE,IN IRAQ'S BURNING SUN,
PUT AN END,TO THIS SICK SORRY STORY.
SHALL WE LISTEN NO MORE?THIS EXCUSE FOR A WAR.
FOR OF THE TRUTH,WE DON'T HAVE A CLUE.
DEMOCRACY,PETROL,BUSH,RUMSFELD OR BOMBS,
WAS IT SADDAM,OSAMA OR WHO?

BRING THEM HOME,TO A PLACE THAT THEY LOVE,
FROM THAT HELL HOLE THEY HAVE IN IRAQ.
FULL OF MADNESS AND MAYHEM,ANGER AND HATE,
TO A SWING,AND THEIR KIDS IN THE PARK.
TO THE WIDE OPEN ARMS OF THEIR MOTHERS
THEIR FATHERS,THEIR CHILDREN AND WIVES.
NOT WASTING THEIR BREATH,THEIR LAST BEFORE DEATH,
WHAT A WASTE OF OUR PRECIOUS KIDS' LIVES.

AS HE STOOD BRAVELY,THE BOY SHED A TEAR,
HIS MOTHER STOOD TREMBLING AT HAND.
WHEN THEY LOWERED OUR BEST,TO HIS LAST,FINAL REST
SHOT DEAD-IN ANOTHER MAN'S LAND.
AND OUR LEADERS WILL TELL US,"WE'RE SORRY,
HE FOUGHT WITH VALOUR,AND HOW HE WAS BRAVE"
TO MY EAR,SOUND LIKE MOCKS,WHEN,SENT HOME IN A BOX,
TO A BROKEN HEART FAMILY,AND GRAVE.

AND THE BAND STRUCK A CHORD,WITH "GOD SAVE THE QUEEN"
"WALTZING MATILDA" OR MAYBE "OLD GLORY"
WHEREVER THEY LIVED,SO THEIR LIVES DID THEY GIVE,
IN ALL LANDS.IT'S THE SAME SORRY STORY.
LET'S LISTEN NO MORE,PUT AN END TO THIS WAR.
CAUSE WE NEVER WILL KNOW WHAT IS TRUE.
DEMOCRACY,PETROL,WAS IT RUMSFELD OR BUSH?
WAS IT SADDAM,OSAMA,OR WHO?

"MY FRIENDS MUMMY,HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY"

Who wrote "There were 10 green bottles hanging on the wall?" I don't know.Who wrote "There were 10 in the bed and the little one said roll over"? I don't know that either.Who wrote "My Friends Mummy Has a very Big Tummy"?-----I DID."Mad Tone Aussie Bush Poet" or my maiden name before I married the computer- Tony Norman.I wrote the first verse of this song 21 years ago when my daughter Kelly was a baby,I wrote a second verse 13 years ago when my son Ben was a baby.We used to sing it whilst going along---Kelly even taught it to all of her little friends, and they used to sing it on the back of the school bus.As I said my youngest is over 13 now,and I got to thinking the other day,I may well get to sing this to Grandchildren--but I may not.So to make sure this song lives forever, even if only out in space riding on a megabite's tale--I had to put more words to it,finish it off and get it out there for the millions of my fans throughout the galaxy to sing to their kids and any Aliens they happen to adopt in the future.This song in the vein of 10 green Bottles and ten in the bed--goes on for a bit--but unlike 10 in the bed does have a start and an ending. Please sing it to your children to whatever tune you wish and make me live on forever in the back seats of cars whilst kids are on a long journey.
I give you "My Friends Mummy Has A Very Big Tummy"

OH MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY,
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE A BABY.
MY BEST FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE A BABY.
SHE WENT TO THE DOCTOR
HE SAID "OH DEAR
I THINK THERE'S MORE
THAN ONE IN THERE."
MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE TWO BABIES.

OH MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE TWO BABIES.
MY BEST FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE TWO BABIES.
SHE WENT TO THE DOCTOR,
HE SAID "MY WORD,
I THINK I'VE GONE
AND FOUND A THIRD."
MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE THREE BABIES.

OH MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE THREE BABIES.
MY BEST FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE THREE BABIES.
SHE WENT TO THE DOCTOR
HE SAID "THERE'S MORE,
THE COUNT HAS NOW
GONE UP TO FOUR."
MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE FOUR BABIES.

OH MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE FOUR BABIES.
MY BEST FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE FOUR BABIES.
SHE WENT TO THE DOCTOR
HE SAID "SNAKES ALIVE,
I'VE FOUND ONE MORE,
WE'RE UP TO FIVE."
MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE FIVE BABIES.

OH MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE FIVE BABIES.
MY BEST FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE FIVE BABIES.
SHE WENT TO THE DOCTOR,
HE SAID"WE'RE IN A FIX,
SHE'S GOT SO BIG
SHE'S HAVING SIX."
MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS AVERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE SIX BABIES. (nearly there)

OH MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE SIX BABIES.
MY BEST FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE SIX BABIES.
SHE WENT TO THE DOCTOR
HE SAID "HANG ON THEN,
I'VE FOUND MORE,
SEVEN,EIGHT,NINE,TEN."
MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAS A VERY BIG TUMMY
SHE'S GOING TO HAVE TEN BABIES. (almost----last verse,hang in there)

MY FRIENDS MUMMY
HAD A VERY BIG TUMMY
BEFORE SHE HAD TEN BABIES.
MY BEST FRIENDS MUMMY
HAD A VERY BIG TUMMY
BEFORE SHE HAD TEN BABIES.
MY FRIENDS A DOG
SHE RUNS ON ALL FOURS.
HER MUM HAD PUPPIES,
WAGGING TALES AND PAWS.
MY FRIENDS MUMMY,
IS A VERY BUSY MUMMY
NOW SHE'S GOT TEN BABIES. THE END AT LAST

PETER

Peter was a boy I met a few years ago.Only a young lad,but homeless.He had a very un kept look about him,and I did something I dodn't usually do.I spoke to him.Usually I'd walk the other side of the road to avoid these kids especially these days,you never know when a knife or something even worse is going to be produced.But I got chatting to Peter,who was infact a very afraid little boy.

PETER

I SAW THIS CHILD,
A CHILD OF THE STREET.
HIS CLOTHES WERE ALL TATTERED,
NO SHOES ON HIS FEET.
HIS HAIR WAS ALL MATTED,
HE WAS DIRTY AS WELL.
NO BATH FOR WEEKS,
I COULD TELL,BY THE SMELL.
SO I ASKED HIM,"HOW COME,
ARE YOU LIKE THIS BY CHOICE?"
AND,I'LL ALWAYS REMEMBER,
THESE WORDS,AND HIS VOICE.

"MY MOTHER DON'T WANT ME,
AND DAD ? FROM AN OVERDOSE DEAD.
THE HOSTELS ARE FULL,
CAN'T GIVE ME A BED.
SO,I ROAM THE STREETS.
HIDING FROM FROM THUGS
SLEEPING WITH BOY LOVERS,
TO GET MONEY FOR DRUGS."

"BUT,I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE,
I'D RATHER BE HOME.
BUT I DON'T REALLY HAVE ONE
SO THE STREETS DO I ROAM."
I REACHED IN MY POCKET
AND FOUND A FEW QUID.
AND HANDED IT OVER,TO
MY NEW FRIEND,THE KID.

HE TOOK IT,AND THANKED ME,
WENT TO HEAD ON HIS WAY
TO THE PARK BENCH TO SLEEP
FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.
"WHERE WILL YOU GO TO NOW?"
TO THE BOY I THEN SAID.
"I REALLY DON'T KNOW"
HE UTTERED,DROPPING HIS HEAD.

WELL,A FEW YEARS HAVE PAST,
SINCE I FIRST SAW THE LAD.
AND I OFTEN THINK BACK
TO THE CHAT THAT WE HAD.
I'D REGULARLY SEE HIM
WHEN I WALK THROUGH THE SHOPS
USUALLY DRUNK,
OR IN TROUBLE WITH COPS.

BUT I HADN'T SEEN PETER,
FOR A MONTH NOW OR SO.
WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED?
WHERE DID HE GO?
HEADLINE "MAN FOUND DEAD"
WAS THE BOY,T'WHOM I'D SPOKEN.
NO CAUSE OF DEATH,BUT--
WE ALL KNOW,HEART-BROKEN.

THE ENEMA QUEEN

Shocking title that---sounds like a movie that Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart should have been in. I don't know how women do it, I don't know how they go to the doctor get their gear off and say "have a look at that doc" .I can't do it, I'm 60 years old there are bits of me I'm sure doctors should be looking at-and I find it so difficult . My prostate, I believe is due for a service-I cannot go to a doctor and ask him to do what is required to check such bits. People tell me there are other ways of doing it these days-but I reckon they are just trying to get me in there. And you know what, it all goes back to an enema I had twenty odd years ago. How the hell some kinky buggers do that for fun I don't know. " I love you darling, how about an enema" ---not for me I'm afraid-I'll stick to the chocolates and flowers and hope for the best. I give you "The Enema Queen" This is a 100% true story.

THE ENEMA QUEEN


I LOVE A GIRL IN UNIFORM
WITH ROUND AND PERT YOUNG BREASTS.
A HEM THAT STOPS ABOVE THE KNEE
BUT LEAVES TO GUESS,THE REST.
PRETTY BLONDED HAIR HELD BACK
WITH A CUTE AND UPTURNED NOSE
A LOVELY SMILE AND MANNER,AND
A LENGTH OF RUBBER HOSE.
"WHAT?"
I SAID "A LENGTH OF RUBBER HOSE."


"HELLO MR NORMAN,
AND HOW ARE WE TODAY?"
"WELL,I'M OK,HOW ARE YOU?
LOOKING GOOD I'LL SAY."
"OH DON'T BE A CHEEKY SILLY SOD,
I'M YOUNG ENOUGH TO BE YOUR DAUGHTER."
"ERE,WHATS THAT YOU'VE GOT IN YOUR HAND"
"OH!,ITS A PINT OF SOAPY WATER."
"WHAT?"
"I SAID,A PINT OF SOAPY WATER."


"WELL,WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH THAT,
AND THE LENGTH OF RUBBER HOSE?
ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE MY BACK A WASH,
OR ARE YOU CHANGING MY BEDCLOTHES?"
"MR NORMAN,ITS NOT LIKE THAT,
NO WASHING CLOTHES OR BACKS,
NOW PLEASE ROLL OVER ON YOUR SIDE,
AND LET YOUR BUM RELAX."
"WHAT?"
"I SAID,LET YOUR BUM RELAX."


"DON'T MOVE AROUND,"SHE WARNED ME,
"LIE NICE AND STILL" SHE SAID.
NO MUCKING AROUND OR LAUGHING,
OR WE'LL MAKE A MESS ON BED.
WELL,I'VE NEVER KNOWN MUCH LIKE IT.
TO MY SHOCK,IT CAME TO PASS.
THAT "PERT YOUNG BREASTS" WAS AIMING
LENGTH OF HOSE RIGHT UP ME ARSE.
"WHAT?"
"I SAID,LENGTH OF HOSE RIGHT UP ME ARSE."


WELL,SHE'D NEVER SAID SHE LOVED ME.
NO SIGN OF LUST,JUST CARE.
BUT HERE WAS A COMPLETE YOUNG STRANGER,
SHOVING HOSE PIPE UP MY REAR.
WELL,BLOKE NEXTDOOR SAW FUNNY SIDE,
AND DECIDES TO JOKE AND JEST,
"MR NORMAN,PLEASE STOP MUCKING ROUND
OR YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE A MESS"
"WHAT?"
"I SAID,YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE A MESS."


I'VE NEVER KNOWN EMBARRASSMENT
LIKE I ENCOUNTERED ON THAT DAY.
BUT HERE'S HOW STORY ENDED,THEN
THATS ALL I'LL HAVE TO SAY.
YOU SEE,I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HIT ME
IT STARTED FIRST WITH GAS.
AND THEN MY GUTS EXPLODED,AND,
I COVERED POOR YOUNG LASS.
"WHAT?"
"THATS RIGHT,I'M ASHAMED TO SAY,I COVERED POOR YOUNG LASS"

MOLLY

As my life slowly unfolds in these pages,things happen that remind me of good times past.Going back 15 years or so,I worked for friends of mine,still selling grass-but they also had a tourist attraction there.My job was not only selling the grass,but sometimes doing tours through the museum and even cooking in the restaurant.Also on the estate was a Clock Museum."Haddons House of Clocks" owned and run by Max and Molly Haddon. Molly is what we'd call "A Character" She wrote poetry,she painted,she sang infact,she'd turn her hand to anything.She loved to talk,she'd talk the arse off a donkey--and very often I would be the recipient.Hours and hours,she'd knock on my office door for the loan of some milk "Max has buggered off with the car and I'm stuck here"--smoked like a chimney but often had no smokes-I smoked in those days and Molly knew it.Max was cunning,he could only take so much of Molly,that's why he worked full time.She was a lovely old bugger,as I say a pain in the arse,but a loving pain in the arse.Also in this poem is "Nick" the mechanic-well I say mechanic,I actually gave him two cars to fix that never got back on the road--he would always say he knew how to fix things -whether he could or not--very often not.
A few years ago Max and Molly moved their museum to the bush.A little country town called Ilabo.About three years ago Julie and I visited then there.Max wasn't in the best of health,and Molly was in the early stages of being "permanently bewildered".That was the last we saw of them.As I heard just last week that Max had died of a heart attack,and I hear now that Molly has been moved into a nursing home not far from where I live now--so I must pop in.Sadly the other character from this poem,Nick-is also dead.I wrote this poem in 1990.If I don't re-write it now,Molly,Max and Nick will all be lost to the dust of memory.

MOLLY

THAT BLOODY OLD WOMAN DOWN THE BACK,
SHE GETS TO BE A PAIN .
NO SOONER I GET RID OF HER
SHE'S AT THE DOOR AGAIN.
STANDS THERE WITH IT,OPEN WIDE
AND YAKS FOR HALF THE DAY.
BUT I KNOW,THAT IF I ASK HER IN
SHE'LL NEVER GO AWAY.
"FOR CHRIST SAKE MOLLY,GET IN HERE
AND SHUT THE BLOODY DOOR.
I SIT HERE FREEZING ME TITS OFF
WHAT DO YA THINK THE HEATERS FOR?"

"IS THERE ANY MAIL FOR ME TODAY?
CAN I HAVE A SLICE OF BREAD?
I CAN'T GET DOWN THE ROAD TODAY,
CAN SOMEONE GO INSTEAD?
I'VE RUN OUT OF ME CIGARETTES
AND I'VE GOT TO HAVE ONE QUICK.
AINT SEEN ME CAR SINCE LAST WEEK
ITS BEING FIXED BY NICK".
HA THATS A JOKE IN ITSELF
ME,I OUGHT TO KNOW.
THE ONLY MECHANIC IN THE WORLD
ON A PERMANENT GO SLOW.

ANYWAY,BACK TO MOLLY,
THE SUBJECT OF THIS YARN.
SHE'S THE ONE THAT WOUND UP ALL THE CLOCKS
OUT THE BACK,IN THE OLD BARN.
THREE BUCKS WILL GET YOU IN TO LOOK,
YES,THATS ALL YOU HAVE TO PAY.
BUT I TELL YOU FOLKS,I'M WARNING YOU
YOU'LL BE STUCK IN THERE ALL DAY.
SHE'LL TELL YOU THIS,AND TELL YOU THAT
JUST GO "NATTER,NATTER,NATTER"
AND FILL YOUR BRAIN,WITH ALL THE THINGS
THAT DOESN'T REALLY MATTER

BUT REAL DEEP DOWN,I GUESS YOU'D SAY,
SHE'S A LOVING SORT OF THING.
PAINTING,WRITING POETRY,
SOME SAY THAT SHE COULD SING.
I DON'T KNOW,I NEVER HEARD,
THE NOISES SHE COULD MAKE.
I WASN'T GAME TO RISK IT FOLKS
THEIR WORD YOU'LL HAVE TO TAKE.
BUT HER HUSBAND,MAX,A REAL NICE BLOKE
AND HARD WORKING BREAD-WINNER
HE'S MORE CUNNING THAN YOU THINK,
ONLY BEING THERE FOR DINNER.

GARDENS OF STONE

First of all,"Gardens Of Stone" is a title I cannot take credit for.It was something I heard that I liked.I googled it, and found various writings,movies and even a band with the same name.On April 25 1915 a great Australian and New Zealand tradition and legend was born--"The Anzacs" (Australian & New Zealand Army Corp)Together with troops from other nations they invaded Turkey at Gallipoli.An invasion which to this day is very controversial.Many thousands of Australian and New Zealand troops died.Many thousands more returned to Australia crippled.Two thousand Anzacs died on the beach the first day,after the battles, 8709 Anzacs lay in "The Gardens Of Stone" never to return to our wonderful land.

THE SANDS,HOLD THE BLOOD OF OUR BROTHERS.
IN THE HILLS LIE THE BONES OF OUR SONS.
DON'T YOU EVER FORGET THAT,THE SOULS OF THE ANZAC
ARE WATCHING AT WHAT WE HAVE DONE
THEY GAVE UP THEIR WIVES,SURRENDERED THEIR LIVES
AND NEVER RETURNED TO OUR SHORES.
SURROUNDED BY DEATH,MANY GAVE THEIR LAST BREATH
TO A WAR,SUPPOSED TO END WARS.

ON THAT FATEFULL MORN,THAT "THE DIGGER" WAS BORN,
THEY WERE BATTERED AND BLASTED TO HELL.
AS THEY JUMPED FROM THEIR BOATS,WITH LUMPS IN THEIR THROATS,
TO A STORM RAINING BULLET AND SHELL.
IN THE DITCHES THEY STAYED,NIGHT AFTER DAY,
TO THEIR ARSES WERE SUNK IN THE MIRE.
THE SICKENING STENCH OF THEIR LIFE IN THE TRENCH,
JUST A SHORT STEP FROM UNFRIENDLY FIRE.

SO NEAR DID THE ENEMY BATTLE,
THEY COULD HEAR THEM, SO CLOSE AT HAND.
BETWEEN ARMY'S ABODE,WHERE NOW IS A ROAD,
IN THOSE DAYS WAS CALLED "NO MANS LAND"
WITH VALOUR THEY FOUGHT,OUR CHILDREN.
FOR THEIR ORDERS THEY NEVER WOULD SHIRK.
THOUGH THEY KNEW NOT WHAT FOR,THIS WAS FOR SURE,
THEY FOUGHT WITH HONOUR ,BOTH ANZAC AND TURK.

SO TOLL THE BELLS,IN THE DARK DARDANELLES,
AND COME APRIL,WILL RING ONCE AGAIN.
AS WE SIT BY THE SHORES,AND WONDER ONCE MORE
WERE THOSE THAT SENT THEM INSANE.
THEY DON'T LIE THERE ALONE,IN THOSE GARDENS OF STONE,
BUILT IN MEMORY OF WHAT THEY HAVE DONE.
THEY WERE LIED TO FOR SURE,WE'VE HAD WAR AFTER WAR,
AND STILL THE FINAL BATTLES NOT WON.

DON'T YOU EVER FORGET THAT,THE SOULS OF THE ANZAC
ARE WATCHING ,AT WHAT WE HAVE DONE.
THE SANDS HOLD THE BLOOD OF OUR BROTHERS,
IN THE HILLS ARE THE BONES OF OUR SONS.

MY CANVAS OF" BEING"

Another one to think about,but at least in this one all get to keep their testicles,which is nice isn't it?A few weeks ago Julie and I went to a Garage Sale-not sure what my English readers call it,probably "a Garage Sale".It was a very sad garage sale-not the normal one where people are having a clear out--this was a deceased estate sale-in a very old run down house,which I should think will be knocked down when all is settled.Everything was for sale-and I mean everything,you could have ripped the doors off if you wanted them.Obviously by what was lying around a little old lady had lived there and had just passed away.
Her books were there,a few pieces of old crockery--a spoon collection,old photos,and everything was going very cheap.She had a few old chickens in a cage,an old Galah (Australian parrot)and other birds-all for sale.I walked around that place with a lump in my throat--everything that woman had loved--was being ripped apart like she had never been-----thoughts turned to what she might be thinking could she see us picking through her bones of life,her Canvas Of "Being".

MY HOUSE ON THE HILL IS STILL STANDING,
SHUTTERS CREEK,AND SO DOES THE FLOOR.
ITS EMPTY OF ALL THAT I STOOD FOR
AND,ITS JUST NOT MY HOME ANYMORE.

THEY'VE PICKED THROUGH THE BONES OF MY LIFETIME
AS IT SAT THERE IN PILES ON THE FLOOR.
MY LIFETIMES COLLECTION,MY MEMORIES,
FOR A PRICE, HAVE BEEN TAKEN WHAT'S MORE.

THE THINGS THAT I MADE,WHICH ONCE WERE MY LIFE
LAY OPEN TO ALL FOR THE SEEING.
THE THINGS THAT I TREASURED,THE THINGS THAT WERE ME
THAT PAINTED MY CANVAS OF "BEING".

THE MUSIC I'VE CHERISHED AND BOOKS THAT I'VE READ,
THE PANS FROM MY KITCHEN AND SHEETS FROM MY BED.
ALL WERE FOR SALE,EVERY TOOL, STOOL AND KNIFE
AS THEY CHIP,CHIPPED AWAY ONCE AGAIN AT MY LIFE.

ALL THE PLANTS AND POTS FROM MY GARDEN
"TAKE FOR FREE IF YOU WISH"THE SIGN SAID,
"MAKE OFFERS FOR ALL THAT YOU SEE" SAID THE NEXT.
"AND YOU'LL FIND PLENTY MORE IN THE SHED".

THE OLD BIRD IN THE CAGE SAID "HELLO COCKY"
HE'D BEEN WITH ME SINCE NOT VERY OLD.
ANOTHER SIGN SAID,JUST OVER HIS HEAD,
"THIS BIRDS NOT FOR SALE,HE'S BEEN SOLD".

BUT MY HOUSE ON THE HILL IS STILL STANDING,
THOUGH ITS JUST NOT MY HOME ANYMORE.
NO LONGER MY CANVAS OF "BEING"
NOW MY SPIRIT HAS PASSED-----I'M NO MORE.

"ANNABELLA"

I'd just like to say from the start,I have no desire to have my testicles removed,and never have had.When I write I tend to write about things I know nothing about.It either works or it doesn't.I was talking to someone the other day,and they were telling me they had been having a chat with a bloke waiting to have a sex change operation.I remeber long ago around 1974 having a chat to such a person in an old boarding house I lived in--and what a tragic case he or she was.I was also talking to another friend who told me of a bloke that was married,had children,but even after all that time-left his wife and children to have such an operation and move on as a woman.
I have no problem with gay people,in the past I have been friends with gay people,and until they make it compulsory have no problem them living their lives the way they see fit.I do have a problem with faggy queenie type mincers-I think they give the gay fraternity a bad name--they are fashion queers and I can't stand them(but I have no wish to bash them)
But for those poor souls trapped in a body they don't belong in I really feel for.I can't imagine how it must be to be a woman trapped in a mans body,or a man trapped in a womans body.It would be a living hell.As it was for Annabella.


ANNABELLA,CAN'T COME OUT TODAY.
FOR NOW SHE'S LOCKED INSIDE.
SHE'D JUST LOVE,TO COME OUT AND PLAY
BUT FOR DADDY'S SAKE,SHE'LL HIDE.
DADDY DOESN'T UNDERSTAND
AND MUMMY STRUGGLES TOO.
SO ANNABELLE'S KEPT SHUT AWAY.
SEEN ONLY,BY A FEW.

ANDREW,HE'LL COME OUT TODAY,
AND THOUGH HE'S TRIED AND TRIED,
SO MANY THINGS HE WANTS TO SAY
BUT HE CAN'T BREAK DADDY'S PRIDE.
CAN'T KICK A BALL,OR HOLD A BAT,
CAN'T WRESTLE,BOX OR FIGHT.
HE MUCH PREFERS THE GENTLE THINGS.
BUT HE TRIES,WITH ALL HIS MIGHT.

ONE DAY SOON,HE'LL HAVE TO SHOW,
AND LIVE ANNABELLA'S LIFE.
HE'LL NEVER BE A FATHER,
COULD NEVER TAKE A WIFE.
"LET ME OUT,LET ME OUT"
HE HEARS ANNABELLA SCREAMING.
NO REST FOR HEAD AS HE LAYS IN BED.
NO SOLACE IN HIS DREAMING.

ANNABELLA'S COMING OUT TODAY,
ITS TIME TO KISS AND TELL.
AND THOSE WHO CAN'T ACCEPT HER?
THEY ALL,CAN GO TO HELL.
"I'VE BEEN TRAPPED INSIDE FOR LONG ENOUGH,
NOW ITS TIME TO SET ME FREE.
GOODBYE ANDREW,I'M ANNABELLE,
YES MUMMY,DAD,ITS ME.

BUT,SOCIETY JUDGES HARSHLY.
HOW HURTFULL,AND CRUEL THEY SPEAK.
ITS HARD TO BE ACCEPTED,
"YOU'RE A WIERDO,YOU'RE A FREAK".
BUT WHY? WHY CAN'T THEY UNDERSTAND?
PLEASE HELP ME,IF YOU CAN.
I'M JUST ANOTHER WOMAN,
IN THE BODY OF A MAN.

METAMORPHOSIS

Ben,my thirteen year old son,has just spent the last week or so with me.I only see him a couple of times a year.I speak to him at least once a week on the phone--and have noticed over the past few months he's growing up.But it was only the other day,when his Mum rang me and suggested that I take him to see a girl,much the same age,that he has played with all his life. Well you'd think he'd been asked to do the washing up.Ben seems to be at that age where he doesn't know what to do with them,so better off do nothing--stay away from them for a while.Well Ben got out of that visit, and he helped me write this song about the event of me asking him to go and visit a 13 year old female friend of his :

METAMORPHOSIS

WELL ITS "YO BRO" SOUL AND ROCK'N'ROLL
NO MORE HAPPY MEALS FOR TEA.
GIVE ME HORROR FLICKS,MTV CHICS
AND GETTING UP LATE FOR ME.
A ROD,A BAT AND CRICKET BALL
A SKATEBOARD OR A BIKE
DROPPING FARTS AND RACING CARTS
BUT GIRLS CAN TAKE A HIKE.

CAUSE I'M TOO OLD FOR PLAYING DOLLS
AND SHE'S TOO YOUNG FOR KISSING.
THAT'LL KEEP FOR LATER ON,
BUT TILL THEN I'M GOING MISSING.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM,NOT A BOY
NOT A MAN,BUT SOMETHING IN BETWEEN.
GETTING HAIR NEATH ME BELLY,
HATE THE SHOWER BETTER SMELLY
AND TILL LUNCHTIME RARELY SEEN.
NO LONGER THE VOICE OF A CHOIR BOY
BUT THAT OF A DYING DOG.
I USED TO SING LIKE AND ANGEL
NOW I CROAK LIKE A BLOODY FROG.

YES,I'M TOO OLD FOR PLAYING DOLLS
SHE'S SURE TOO YOUNG FOR KISSING
THAT'LL KEEP FOR LATER ON
BUT TILL THEN I'M GOING FISHING.

YES ITS "YO BRO" SOUL AND ROCK'N'ROLL
NO MORE HAPPY MEALS FOR TEA.
GIVE ME HORROR FLICKS MTV CHICS
AND SLEEPING LATE FOR ME.
CAUSE I'M TOO OLD FOR PLAYING DOLLS,
AND SHE'S TOO YOUNG FOR KISSING
WE MIGHT GET IT ON,MUCH LATER ON,
TILL THEN I'M GOING MISSING,

TILL THEN I'M GOING MISSING

TILL THEN I'M GOING MISSING