Jackass and father's day

 Balls to boules 

the posh French prats

Off with their, off with their

heads

The Queen of Hearts

The Queen of Tarts

Baking all day again

The bishop farts

In his castle keep

Surrounded by the rain

The vain moat

The holy goat

The smoking Bent piranha

It's getting past a joke

I cannot gloat

As I'm sat here wearing

Pyjamas

Stick them up their ......

It's a piece of cake

The jack could fit

Up their ass

Jackass

Bishop's palace

Bishop's eye

We bouled them out we did

His eyes were balling

Like a kid

The Bishop had a log in his

Pull it before you

Talk about a stick in his

The green was oh so perfect

So unlike Eden

You couldn't believe it

Sacrosanct halls

Well painted interiors

Smelling of the lush value of superiors

Or those who give themselves

Just so much self-esteem

As God doesn't give them

This is Ego's dream

Riven from the arrogance

And pride of Hallowed halls

Where hypocrisy is the bride

And the Wedding vows are called

Just so You know The place I mean

It's the Bishop's Palace

Wells

On the Bowling Green

The self-preservation society

They're called

All things come to those who wait

It's just the time is lean

And As the time gets thinner

So the Greed gets mean

As you realize if you're a winner

You must swallow your pride

The problem is the tongue

Gets in the way

And you end up saying what you

Should not ever say

You see that's the way a beginner begins

Believing in the almighty

He realises he has everything to learn

Still at the age of ninety

Because it's not about your coat tails

Or the way you dress your pudding

But it's all about the summer days

And the mess you make of gooding

All the good and all the bad

All tied up in your old dad

Our father who art in Bruton

Hallowed be thy name

Humdinger

 It's a humdinger

And a bell ringer

A hum dinger today

It was a humdinger

A dumb singer

And a gunslinger today

They say don't finger

The harbinger

Don't you linger at bay

Get yourself a good winger

Make sure she's a bringer

And get yourself on your way

It was a hum dinger a real

Gun slinger

That shot down my baby today

Full finger, pulled the trigger

And soon my baby did sway

It was a humdinger

Like a sling-shot slinger

That laid Goliath in his grave

Thrown by David slayer of tyrants

Who stood up to the giant's tyrade 

He was a humdinger

A bell ringer

The shot down my baby today

In the shade of Sherwood forest

Where the holly trees stand with the bay

Beyond the prison walls

 Sunrise over the prison

The sun my only friend

Giver of life

The sun sets all men free

Sets my soul free

It says stop living in the past

For the past is a prison

Only in the present moment

Are you

Free

No man or woman can control it

Only in your mind are you free

Remember no matter how deep

A hole you're in

A little Sunlight will

Always shine in

And there is hope in the future

Hope that darkness will not last

Hope that folk heroes

Always had in the past

And despite terror or torment

Or destruction so vast

That the mould we were made in

Was a strong worthy cast

So set not your eyes

On the bars that bind

But look out between them

To free your mind

There are free fields 

And lands that were made for you and  me

Somewhere out beyond the sea

Summer days

 I've been awaiting

Trying not to be a hating

Getting up early coming home late in

The evening time

Making hay

The day has been lazing

Like grasses have been weighting

Down with their heavy heads

Sleeping in their way

Seeds lie a slating

Flowers bloom the grating

I am far from hating

The loving time of day

Maidens go a milking

Silk worms are a silking

Up mothers stay a sewing

Making piecework pay

Fathers are a binding

To their leathers minding

Uppers they're a lasting

Lasting out the day

But still the flowers

Start a wilting

Beds lie a quilting

Babes in cots a milking

Crying night and day

Roses sweetly smelling

Trees once stood now a felling

Falling in the forests

Where the Ashes had their day

And as I go a walking

Hear the chickens squawking

All the bees are swarming

In the warming light of day

Lost in your love

 I get lost in your love

Anything above

But when push comes to shove

I get lost in your love

Any time

the wars have come 

And the blues are hard as stone

Anytime

you show me fors

And againsts when I'm alone

I try to see 

the wood

For the the trees

But I'm dug up like a bone

And your hounds are running after me

While we're speaking on the phone

I get lost in your love

Don't know who I'm thinking of

It could you be you or me

In the wrong zone

I need a map

To find you on my lap

Singing like a bird's sweet tone

Because I'm lost in your love.

That's about the Scythe of it

 Now Scythe me down

Ammerdown

With a sweep of your blade

The axe falls in the hay

Like the battles now past

And on a cool June day

As the snails slimed the grass

We not so grim reapers reaped

What lay in our path

Reap what you sow

Don't sow what won't last

The seeds of summer days

Lie in the earth of autumn past

Now scythe me down

Like heads of grass

Seeds heads, pop

Tall storks clasp

Lie like sticks

Of warriors past

Now scythe the clover

Scythe the thistle

As time scythes the lover

And the last train's whistle

Blowing passed

Like seeds in the air

Scything go the swifts

And swallows without a care

Scything in the willows

Twisting over the pond

Scything down

The stinging nettles

Of their magic wand

Giver of the poisons darts

Scything go the ants at heart

Cropping through the leaf

Scything pincer teeth

Time for a Holiday

 Twisting up in virtue, I realise all is lost

Just as the ghost of a curfew

Self-made photograph

The tubs are lit

By corkscrew cousins

That make I laugh

Because Somerset is so see-through

Oh the dalliance of a giraffe

What are you in Italy?

Now on holiday in India, Peru

How about the Himalyas

I here there's an expensive view

I'd like to be on holiday

Why not take a break

In the end we all are slaying the dragon

We've been burning at the stake

Let yourself have some rest

Why not don't you deserve it

We live in a land 

Of holographs

And I know what you've been going through

It's easier to live like a bored

English slug

Than take a hold of yourself and lug

Your English ass off to foreign climbs

Where the bees smoke

Hula's 

And love is a prime number

All for one and one for all