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Coming Home Shitfaced
Some are fishers of men’s souls I’m a drinker drover Never drink and drove Except on a bike, by jove Wound those lanes, wove Wobbly as Chivers Lime Surprised I never stoved My head in falling over Badly cut my leg one time Body breakable as window panes in a rock ape’s firing line Tomorrow…
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Get The Ice-Cream Out There, Mikey
My dad loves Vienetta Afterward his spoon licks Clean, about him no pretence No preening Unyeilding maybe A go-getter, neverfretter Doubt I’ll be better Neverbettered, old Dempsey.
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Armoured Goodbye
He is wearing armour Whispering romance languages Sands stop seething through time’s vial, all is languid Mo chara, mo chroí, amor Tomorrow, ámararch, I march without sorrow You will die, she protests, Mairbh I go the way of all flesh and all armadas In the ground and beneath the sea They trade claddaghs He goeth…
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Lord of Riders
Who is a horse master Who would be our Rohan The Irish Gael or the Berber Zenata Performing tricks, Spinning Lando Vannata kicks On horseback The Commanche who came after screaming from the stone age to the frontier Spearpoint at the front of history Baptism at the font of misery.
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Going Bricker?
I’m shouting over Brickfield Park session tonight, boys Gonna be lethal Here, youngfla’, can I ask Is Bricker on your visit list He says yes beaming with fizzy lips It’s like an orgasm for tongue tips 1-2 1-2 1-2 1-2 like a tap drips Taps off, gents, and let rips Ripping and burning cities like…
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Alchemisland 