Alchemisland

I feel a rush, my famous rage 

I am the fiercest son of Pelias

Face for radio, I got a telly mush 

Getting a big media push 

A Christmas book 

Nigella has me on making Christmas pud 

I know bud, I would have said you’re having me on 

Throw us that

Throw that like a peltast

How’s your da? 

Ah, sorry for hear that

Did he recover or? Ah

I get ya, say no more

Be grand, sure 

How’s your grandmother? 

Ah she’s dead the poor thing

Died there the other week 

Sure, that’s how it is 

You get your innings 

Then your soil inches

Your soul in exodus 

Your name’s last mention 

Is your true death knelling.