(Best read in a Lancashire accent!)
I’m tired of no folk listening,
When I’ve got something to say.
I’d tell ‘em how to run country,
But they’d all turn t’other way.
I’d not blame mistakes on computers,
Or some such technology.
I’d tell ‘em it straight, as it should be,
‘Cause I’m from Lancashire me.
I’m sick to the teeth of ‘em moaning,
From cosy armchairs next t’ fire.
They should get down int muck wi’ rest ‘ us,
‘Stead of building their towers e’en higher.
If they rolled up their shirt sleeves with us lot,
‘Stead of sitting around on their ass,
We’d not need to try and win lottery,
‘Cause we’d all have a share of the brass!
A Northern Christmas
(Also best read in a Lancashire accent!)
“The tree is almost done now
And doesn’t it look grand.
Come and take a look love.
Close your eyes - Give me your hand.”
“Tinsel’s on - and baubles too,
The chocolates and the lights.
But I can’t help thinking love,
That something’s not quite right”
“Eee ya daft ol’ beggar
You’ve really lost the plot!
A black pud short of breakfast;
You really should be shot!”
“Presents are there, from near and far,
Underneath yon tree….”
“Well you’re certainly no Wiseman;
Any fool could see!”
“Put a star upon the top,
At least to show you know,
Just how the presents came from far,
All those years ago!!”
When, oh Lord, will we start learning?
When will we stop needless bodies burning?
The money machine just keeps on rolling,
Whilst the funeral bell is tolling.
But we just sigh, as others cry,
Until our own begin to die
And only then do we relent
And spend some money, to prevent.
In this land of ours so green,
We soon forget the things unseen.
Like the rainforest devastation;
Ozone layer, hole formation;
People starving, whilst we eat;
Icecaps melting with increased heat;
Problems caused by nuclear power;
Extinction of species by the hour.
So much trouble and so much strife,
From leading a greedy, disposable life!