Thank God it’s Friday,
I will say it once again,
Yes, T.G.I.F!
Corona Viras,
What is it, flu or a cold,
Does anyone know?
It is raining now,
And some puddles grow outside,
Quicker than the grass.
As complex as simple is.
Just when i am not thinking right, maybe tired
Thank God it’s Friday,
I will say it once again,
Yes, T.G.I.F!
Corona Viras,
What is it, flu or a cold,
Does anyone know?
It is raining now,
And some puddles grow outside,
Quicker than the grass.
“Well?” Said the doctor,
“What is the matter with you?”
I took a wrong turn!
Where is the toilet?
They said, “Turn left, to the end,
And there, just turn right”.
I passed the cafe,
And again then stopped for tea,
Then I had to pee.
That’s how it started,
I got out whilst I could though,
Back to normal strife.
What the barman saw,
Under the bar last evening,
Is something so gross!
Maybe, it is now,
And maybe it ain’t. We’ll see!
When we go under.
The darkness surrounds,
Closing in like a thick fog,
Chilling to the bone.
There’s a quietness,
Eerie and haunting down there,
Like a dripping tap.
And so we returned,
And pledged to not speak a word,
Of what we saw there.
To be continued…….
One fly in my soup,
It wants to learn how to swim,
All got flushed away.
The trouble with bags,
Is that they are so needy,
Need to be carried.
A white old waist coat,
Under Bump’s little jacket.
Looks so silly.

Obama looked good,
What happened to Bumhole’s suit?
Where’s his taylor now?
They flew in today,
We ran quickly for cover,
To avoid its sting.

This one was napping,
We took a shot to show you,
A sample of bugs.
A Labour Brexit,
Delivered by Conservatives,
How does that all work?
Bring on EU votes,
Time for another stuffing
For these tired parties.
The rare lesser blue,
A griffin, puffing, dragon,
Here’s my rough sketch.

I didn’t have long,
It came and then it was gone.
But was really blue.
Poor Conservatives,
A sorry Tory story,
Polls show poor results.

Vote blue and go green?
Or, vote blue if you see red?
Or, just the plain blues!
Huawei leaker hunt,
The Cabinet’s in Grays sights,
She’s hauling them in.
Poor Bin turns it down,
Din dins with the Queen and Bump,
For racist reasons!!
Collapse imminent?
Maybe, for Tory Party,
Those stuffed up ponces!