accountantpete
OAP
Yesterday was 1st March 2107
Hope you are in heaven.
Hope you are in heaven.
What poem do you want read at your funeral?
- Thread starter Yellow Fang
- Start date
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Hello St. Peter, how are you, mate?
Nice set of gates you got there. Real pearl?
No, I've got no ticket I'm afraid -
I'm so sorry for turning up unannounced.
I hadn't planned on passing this way today.
I guess an 8 course dinner, a Cuban cigar,
A bottle of champagne and being in bed
With a 25 year old beauty queen was just
Too much, for my 109 year old heart to take.
But you know me, I believed in living life.
Too late in the day to change myself now.
So, Pete me auld mucker, are you going
To open your posh gate and let me in?
What, you've radioed for my file,
My judgement book and book of sins?
Well I guess it won't take too long.
My God, look at the thickness of that book
Thank God it's not mine. Oh shoot it is!
Yes it's true, I did kick the cat in 1983
But I was just a kid, I knew no better.
Yes I once did have impure thoughts about
The girl next door, and yes, I did cheat
When playing Ludo with my brother in 1984.
I did break my Granny's Royal Doulton Vase
And pass the blame on to Arthur the cat.
And yes, whilst at school, I did stick a potato
Up the exhaust pipe of Miss Smith's Cortina.
And nail Mr Murphy's duster to the blackboard,
And you're quite right of course -
It wasn't nice to joke about Mr Gill's Lada Riva.
And I did draw a moustache on the Pope's photo.
But surely St Peter, I'm not all that bad?
I'm not a liar or I would have been a politician.
Can't you turn a blind eye to a few misdemeanors?
I'll stick this tenner in your shirt pocket,
Buy yourself a pint. Aw Pete, me auld mate.
Please, don't put bribery on the list as well.
You're hardly that perfect yourself after all,
Did you not disown and deny your boss thrice
When the going got tough? Come on Pete,
Open this gate or I'll punch your face in.
Perhaps I'll find another way in.
Where does this black staircase lead?
Cough splutter, bit smoky in here isn't it,
Oh hello, how are you? Is there a party,
I love the fancy dress costume,
The cloven hoof effect shoes, very real,
And the pitch-fork, finest forged steel,
No expense spared. Oh hello George,
Haven't seen since you died! My God,
If it isn't Harry Callaghan, my old friend.
You must come here, Hell is wonderful -
A place to meet long lost friends!
Nice set of gates you got there. Real pearl?
No, I've got no ticket I'm afraid -
I'm so sorry for turning up unannounced.
I hadn't planned on passing this way today.
I guess an 8 course dinner, a Cuban cigar,
A bottle of champagne and being in bed
With a 25 year old beauty queen was just
Too much, for my 109 year old heart to take.
But you know me, I believed in living life.
Too late in the day to change myself now.
So, Pete me auld mucker, are you going
To open your posh gate and let me in?
What, you've radioed for my file,
My judgement book and book of sins?
Well I guess it won't take too long.
My God, look at the thickness of that book
Thank God it's not mine. Oh shoot it is!
Yes it's true, I did kick the cat in 1983
But I was just a kid, I knew no better.
Yes I once did have impure thoughts about
The girl next door, and yes, I did cheat
When playing Ludo with my brother in 1984.
I did break my Granny's Royal Doulton Vase
And pass the blame on to Arthur the cat.
And yes, whilst at school, I did stick a potato
Up the exhaust pipe of Miss Smith's Cortina.
And nail Mr Murphy's duster to the blackboard,
And you're quite right of course -
It wasn't nice to joke about Mr Gill's Lada Riva.
And I did draw a moustache on the Pope's photo.
But surely St Peter, I'm not all that bad?
I'm not a liar or I would have been a politician.
Can't you turn a blind eye to a few misdemeanors?
I'll stick this tenner in your shirt pocket,
Buy yourself a pint. Aw Pete, me auld mate.
Please, don't put bribery on the list as well.
You're hardly that perfect yourself after all,
Did you not disown and deny your boss thrice
When the going got tough? Come on Pete,
Open this gate or I'll punch your face in.
Perhaps I'll find another way in.
Where does this black staircase lead?
Cough splutter, bit smoky in here isn't it,
Oh hello, how are you? Is there a party,
I love the fancy dress costume,
The cloven hoof effect shoes, very real,
And the pitch-fork, finest forged steel,
No expense spared. Oh hello George,
Haven't seen since you died! My God,
If it isn't Harry Callaghan, my old friend.
You must come here, Hell is wonderful -
A place to meet long lost friends!
further
Guru
- Location
- Glastonbury Somerset
Far from crazy pavements -
the taste of silver spoons
A clinical arrangement
on a dirty afternoon
Where the fecal germs of Mr Freud
are rendered obsolete
The legal term is null and void
In the case of Beasley Street
In the cheap seats where murder breeds
Somebody is out of breath
Sleep is a luxury they don't need
- a sneak preview of death
Belladonna is your flower
Manslaughter your meat
Spend a year in a couple of hours
On the edge of Beasley Street
Where the action isn't
That's where it is
State your position
Vacancies exist
In an X-certificate exercise
Ex-servicemen excrete
Keith Joseph smiles and a baby dies
In a box on Beasley Street
From the boarding houses and the bedsits
Full of accidents and fleas
Somebody gets it
Where the missing persons freeze
Wearing dead men's overcoats
You can't see their feet
A riff joint shuts - opens up
Right down on Beasley Street
Cars collide, colours clash
disaster movie stuff
For a man with a Fu Manchu moustache
Revenge is not enough
There's a dead canary on a swivel seat
There's a rainbow in the road
Meanwhile on Beasley Street
Silence is the code
Hot beneath the collar
an inspector calls
Where the perishing stink of squalor
impregnates the walls
the rats have all got rickets
they spit through broken teeth
The name of the game is not cricket
Caught out on Beasley Street
The hipster and his hired hat
Drive a borrowed car
Yellow socks and a pink cravat
Nothing La-di-dah
OAP, mother to be
Watch the three-piece suite
When shoot-stoppered drains
and crocodile skis
are seen on Beasley Street
The kingdom of the blind
a one-eyed man is king
Beauty problems are redefined
the doorbells do not ring
A lightbulb bursts like a blister
the only form of heat
here a fellow sells his sister
down the river on Beasley Street
The boys are on the wagon
The girls are on the shelf
Their common problem is
that they're not someone else
The dirt blows out
The dust blows in
You can't keep it neat
It's a fully furnished dustbin,
Sixteen Beasley Street
Vince the ageing savage
Betrays no kind of life
but the smell of yesterday's cabbage
and the ghost of last year's wife
through a constant haze
of deodorant sprays
he says retreat
Alsations dog the dirty days
down the middle of Beasley Street
People turn to poison
Quick as lager turns to piss
Sweethearts are physically sick
every time they kiss.
It's a sociologist's paradise
each day repeats
On easy, cheesy, greasy, queasy
beastly Beasley Street
Eyes dead as vicious fish
Look around for laughs
If I could have just one wish
I would be a photograph
on a permanent Monday morning
Get lost or fall asleep
When the yellow cats are yawning
Around the back of Beasley Street
the taste of silver spoons
A clinical arrangement
on a dirty afternoon
Where the fecal germs of Mr Freud
are rendered obsolete
The legal term is null and void
In the case of Beasley Street
In the cheap seats where murder breeds
Somebody is out of breath
Sleep is a luxury they don't need
- a sneak preview of death
Belladonna is your flower
Manslaughter your meat
Spend a year in a couple of hours
On the edge of Beasley Street
Where the action isn't
That's where it is
State your position
Vacancies exist
In an X-certificate exercise
Ex-servicemen excrete
Keith Joseph smiles and a baby dies
In a box on Beasley Street
From the boarding houses and the bedsits
Full of accidents and fleas
Somebody gets it
Where the missing persons freeze
Wearing dead men's overcoats
You can't see their feet
A riff joint shuts - opens up
Right down on Beasley Street
Cars collide, colours clash
disaster movie stuff
For a man with a Fu Manchu moustache
Revenge is not enough
There's a dead canary on a swivel seat
There's a rainbow in the road
Meanwhile on Beasley Street
Silence is the code
Hot beneath the collar
an inspector calls
Where the perishing stink of squalor
impregnates the walls
the rats have all got rickets
they spit through broken teeth
The name of the game is not cricket
Caught out on Beasley Street
The hipster and his hired hat
Drive a borrowed car
Yellow socks and a pink cravat
Nothing La-di-dah
OAP, mother to be
Watch the three-piece suite
When shoot-stoppered drains
and crocodile skis
are seen on Beasley Street
The kingdom of the blind
a one-eyed man is king
Beauty problems are redefined
the doorbells do not ring
A lightbulb bursts like a blister
the only form of heat
here a fellow sells his sister
down the river on Beasley Street
The boys are on the wagon
The girls are on the shelf
Their common problem is
that they're not someone else
The dirt blows out
The dust blows in
You can't keep it neat
It's a fully furnished dustbin,
Sixteen Beasley Street
Vince the ageing savage
Betrays no kind of life
but the smell of yesterday's cabbage
and the ghost of last year's wife
through a constant haze
of deodorant sprays
he says retreat
Alsations dog the dirty days
down the middle of Beasley Street
People turn to poison
Quick as lager turns to piss
Sweethearts are physically sick
every time they kiss.
It's a sociologist's paradise
each day repeats
On easy, cheesy, greasy, queasy
beastly Beasley Street
Eyes dead as vicious fish
Look around for laughs
If I could have just one wish
I would be a photograph
on a permanent Monday morning
Get lost or fall asleep
When the yellow cats are yawning
Around the back of Beasley Street
TW#T by John Cooper Clarke would raise a giggle
Gravity Aided
Legendary Member
- Location
- Land of Lincoln
Since I was on both high school and college speech teams, and Mrs.GA was as well, there will be no shortage of that sort of thing around my funeral. I'll just let them decide what to recite, as there will be no stopping them. (Well, the line the priest says will stop everything-"If you will but repair to the parish hall, there will be a meal after the funeral")
Chris S
Legendary Member
- Location
- Birmingham
Not a poem but I suspect my epitaph will probably be "He had right of way"
KEEF
Veteran
- Location
- BURNOPFIELD
Anything you want I will not be able hear it ...
Drago
Legendary Member
- Location
- Suburban Poshshire
Roses are red,
bacon is red,
Poetry is hard,
bacon.
bacon is red,
Poetry is hard,
bacon.
Gravity Aided
Legendary Member
- Location
- Land of Lincoln
Nobelpreizkandidate.
HertzvanRental
Veteran
Eskimo Nell- With actions!!
shouldbeinbed
Rollin' along
- Location
- Manchester way
Why would there not be? us cyclists are a discerning bunch and know a crafstman when we see one & the Bard of Salford certainly knows how to string words together well.
slowmotion
Quite dreadful
- Location
- lost somewhere
I came across this a couple of days ago.Why would there not be? us cyclists are a discerning bunch and know a crafstman when we see one & the Bard of Salford certainly knows how to string words together well.
[nsfw]
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View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYs7Gf3DoEc
[/media]
