Arise young man
for you're sat in my chair
it's a black and tan fact that I always sit there.
My body's effete
I envisage a pause
insipid responses are'nt helping the cause.
congesting the room
I shall rain on your head a disparaging tune.
Who gave you admission
who gave you the ball
you pitch in Zimbabwe, Yemen or Nepal.
You're dropping your drivel all over the place
I'm brewing a mixture to foetor your space.
Contemptuous derision of cultured advice
and cute disrespect of our country's entice.
You hustlers got rhythm
you hustlers got stance
us shufflers are hoofing the Floral Dance.
I'm standing...you're sitting amazing the court
reciting us Shakespeare and Pinter and Holt.
You're devouring my dinner
then guzzling my tea
the resident kookies are cracking with glee.
Are they your wheels hogging the hub of my drive?
that's it mate....you're finished....I'll skin you alive.
This bale revelation has made me uptight
to retrieve my location I'll hammer all night.
........Get up I say
that's my bloody chair
it's a black and tan fact.....that I always sit there.
Copyright © Frankie Gaynor-Archer | Year Posted 2011