Tag Archives: joem

Food for Thought

Carrot for my harrot,
Peas for my knees,
Grain for my brain,
Apple for my thrapple,

Eggs for my legs,
Wheat for my feet
Potato for my weighto
Pear for my hair.

Pies for my thighs,
Beef for my teeth,
Honey for my tummy,
Whisky for my imagination.

jokeypoet 2007


Eighteen now,
well look at you,
you’re really walking tall,
Girls and pubs and any film,
now you can have them all.

You’ll grow a beard,
and stay out late,
what freedom you’ll enjoy,
but please remember, don’t forget,
you’re still our little boy.


If menstruation were a boy thing,
oh what changes would unfold,
the period would be exalted,
and a wonder to behold,
There’d be monthly competitions,
to find the lad who bleeds the most,
time of work for PMT,
free towels through the post.

There’d be a PhD in cycling,
and a Doctorate for some,
Clubs all round the country,
where bleeding would be fun,
Club champions would get trophies,
with their name upon a plaque,
designer label tampons with
three stripes upon their back.

The science of menstruation,
would measure tidal pulls and storms,
the gals without the magic,
would be condemned as uninformed.
Time of the month would be a hoot
when lads could strut their stuff,
they’d pull the wool and brag the rag
in every local pub.

But alas its just a girl thing,
to the man it puzzles him,
he thinks that menstrual cycling
is best done in the gym,
And when he sees a pack of towels,
on the shelf beside the soap,
he’ll go all red, and turn away,
because he’s just a dope.


The Dog Show

The day arrived, we’d waited long,
Patch was groomed and looking strong,
he’s bound to win this is our day,
it’s a shame it’s a three hour drive away.

Mum made the picnic, I walked Patch,
dad got the car and opened the hatch,
In went the basket, the towels and phone,
video, rule books, biscuits and comb.

We set off early and drove like mad,
mum went over the rules with dad,
we got to the show but only to find,
we’d gone and left the dog behind.

Jokey poet
September 2001


Whilst cruising in our motor launch off the coast of St. Tropez,
We sailed into a quite and secluded coastal bay,
On the beach, far in the distance, stood a figure all alone,
He was waving quite excitedly, we wondered what’s going on.

To try and get a closer look we sailed around again,
And with binoculars and telescope tried to find our waving friend,
Then when we did, it became quite clear, he was waving right at us,
With arms outstretched and waving hard and making quite a fuss,

We sailed around the bay again and this time with a spurt,
And sailed in close to ask the man “tell me are you hurt”
“Hurt” he said, “of course I am” and gave a piercing glance,
“You’ve sailed around this bay three times and never waved back once”.


Crocodile Jock

When Keeper Pete took Jock the croc to his local pub one day,
the locals made some scary sounds and the landlord said “no way”
“Its quite all right,” Pete reassured, “I can show you that he’s tame,”
and the crowd watched on with disbelief as the landlord said “go on then”

“Hup!” cried Pete and in a flash Jock lay across six stools,
“now open Wide!” and Jock exposed his teeth as sharpened tools.
“Ill show you now, that Jocky here, won’t cause you any grief,”
then Pete removed his member and placed it right across Jock’s teeth.

“Close!” said Pete, and Jock he did with just a spec to spare,
Then Pete produced a rolled up club from his daily newspaper.
he fiercely beat jock on the head with temper, force and grudge,
but the crocodile just lay there and didn’t even budge.

“You see” said Pete “he’s just a lamb, he wouldn’t hurt a fly,”
then asked the stunned and silent crowd “would any one else care to try”
“Oh go on then” this granny called “I’ll join you in your caper”
“on one condition sonny, please don’t hit me with that paper.”

July 2000


When Anna beat the sheepskin rug,
The dust and stoor did scoot,
Up grandad’s nose and doon his throat,
He had tae wahoo it oot.