No I'm not stumped by a Cricket test
so here's my pitch
which creased me up it's my best
by the contender
who hit one for six the incumbent he
who shall not be named
(begins with 'T')
was bowled over and out
in 2020
of that there is no doubt
for by all scores
and there were plenty
(more than 81 million votes take note)
and what's more
based on his batting average
as a matter of fact
the latter was on a sticky wicket
and as for his later behaviour
no it's just not cricket
The contender
I have not met many famous people in me continues life
but I have seen three kings, the first one who, when old
broke his leg for a reason not clear to me, died from
the accident that involved a horse
His son took over, he liked to dress in an admiral uniform
fond of sailing and cocktails, as was Hercules Poirot
when he died, his son became king, a quiet man who has
not done anything legendary.
Of course, they were only famous for being kings in them
little country not like Alan Ladd and Jack Dempsey I saw
a warm summer night in New York; Alan was short and
Jack was tall, and they walked into a bar.
My life is a modest one, hamburger cook when not sitting
In a pub with other pretenders, talking about art, which
we had not seen other than in magazines and books we
had read, thinking we’re intellectuals.
Not that I complain, I once took an acting course, but
nothing came out of it, even though friends said I was
talented doing press-ups with one arm behind my back
while drinking a pint of beer.
I see I am almost 60
The river of life has sped by
Sweet accounts are needed
Thank God I remember the 60s
sane relics of the past
Kaftans and roll-ups
strain to the sounds
blonde this and that
Mini skirts and wobbly legs
I hear the wind calling
It wants an account of where I've been
Schooled in Croydon by Woodside
Polytechnic in the East End
Never used my Degree for its full effect
Should have been a contender
in the National Audit Office
Life goes by quickly
its a black board of unreason
It demands an answer
worry! worry ! worry!
we got alotta people to
impress
prepare: prepare: prepare
you know they
gonna put you
to the test
all eyes on you
all eyes on me
We gonna Rock the Night
Rock the Night
Best at doing our thing
Rock tonight, Rock tonight
We be the best at doing our thing!
Yeah gotta be worried
about what the night gonna bring
we wanna be champions in the morning
Worked real hard
now it time to do
our thing
We wanna be Champions in
the morning!
I won't go into it
The when , why and how
Let's just say i got injured
and leave it at that
And when i recovered i tried again
and failed
Still they persisted with me and told me my Dad to bring me back because i obviously must have had talent
But i failed again until i eventually gave up
Because i has lost my bottle and
so to with it my confidence
It's true what they say fortune favours the brave
Whereas the faint of heart and scared
Sit slumped on bar stools and tell losers stories
Gender of Contender Who Is Biggest Spender
We always wondered about the gender,
Of the people who will be the contender;
Far above best;
Passed each test;
Not only that has been biggest spender.
Jim Horn
I could have been a Contender
But found out at the 11th hour
That talent is nothing without heart and dedication
That I why no 1 knows my story
Except willing Bar Tenders
Who listen for tips and favor's
And to make the day go quicker
But even they get bored
Listening to the same old stories
Regaled over and over again
Hey but that's my party trick
And to it ill have to stick
Because nothing new happens to a drunk at a bar
Its all about the past
And trying to forget the future
Once a contender
Now a has - been
I played insane games with my brainwaves, leaving psycho-spiritual stains in the astral plane, collapsed synapses, bruises, scratches, this ain’t magic, it’s incompetence
Unconscious but alive, same as everyone else in the supply chain on the physical plain: is it wrong that I’m still here, I’m in a contract of astonishment
My epiphanes are crystalline, they’re bought and sold like nicotine - indecisive? Lived your life by your choices? Spoilt for choice? That’s not a punishment
These mental ball games, throttled thoughts of pearly tall gates, hadn’t you ought to stop painting a portrait of yourself as a sore saint? It’s getting monotonous.
Train timetables, tortured habits
Surfing rings far from the planet
Ailing adversaries, damaged
goods is how we’ve always managed
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