Talking cold turkey

 Hi Bev

Hi Chris

You look like Scott

all wrapped up

I may be sometime

Oates, you mean Oates

Oates said I'm off to get some porridge

Scott

was racing Ombudsmen the Norwegian

Amundsen

Yes the two reasons why that failed

were food and clothing

It must have been difficult to get there

and realize you've been beaten to it 

They ate their dogs, Amundsen

Hot dogs

Originally

Scott's team had to make do

With poor clothing

And their machines broke down

There was an Australian who went up Everest

Before Hilary

A sheep farmer

He invented the down coat

Up down

No Eider

I'd ha what?

I'd ha thought it would be

He advised Hilary who was a New Zealander

So they got on both from down under

And they had Tensing

Ten cent?

Genetically designed to work at high altitudes

I wish I were

Sugar and shit

 Sometimes gold it shimmers like spit

For all I'm told it's sugar and shit

Get back on your horse and ride like hell

Can you hear the church tower ring that bell

Town of forgiveness the red and the green

Can I get a witness for all that I've seen

Big boy coming barrels and wells

They dropped the bomb on Madams' hotels

Butterflies erupt like volcanoes

Better kiss a butter cup before she knows

But it all shines up like gold and spit

But I could sworn it looked like

Sugar and shit

All the rocking ships out at sea

Ringing their bells of liberty

Ringing for the broken chains of slavery

Lying on the rocks at the bottom of the sea

Hear them coming marching out the pit

Some are humming some they spit

The bitter rum, the tongue of flames split

But it's all the same just sugar and shit

Dinosaur Dreaming

 I was running in a dream

And suddenly I was out of breath

I stopped and turned around to see a giant 

rib cage chasing  me

Containing the most enormous pair of lungs

I'd ever seen in my life!

It was then I realised 

I'd been running in

Thoracic Park

If not you

 If not you then who?

If not you then who?

If not you, if not you, if not you then who?

Come on hear me cry, come on hear me cry

Come on hear me, come on hear me, 

If not you then who?

I am out of touch

I am out of touch

Swinging round, swinging round

Swinging around my hutch

Come and take your aim

Pull your trigger with your blame

Shoot me down, shoot me down

Shoot me down in flames

If not you, then who? 

If not you then who?

If not you, if not you

If not you then who?

Moon toy

 How was your day?

Oh the Storm moon

Threw me a rose

And oh the home brew

It sure did you true

And I stoned the moon

It was a stone moon

Like I swallowed it whole

Oh I would storm the moon for you

It is a space war

The fight for the stars

Bach to the the future

 What did Arnold Schwarzenegger say when he decided to play a famous classical composer in a new film?

I'll be Bach

The rugby player

 When I was a young rugby player

I would run from post to post

Filled with the Holy Ghost

Like Saint George I was a dragon slayer

I would hew down my enemy 

In the most collosal tackles

And hold them by the knee

Lock their ankles in shackles

And fell them like the trees

While the pitch was my garden

Come winter time or Spring

When the frost would harden

When I was a young rugby player

When I was a young rugby player

My poetry was like Keats so Romantic and daring

Like Tennyson in its grandeur

Like Walt Whitman in Scope

I would look to the further field

And see in there only hope

When I was a young rugby player

Now I'm an old rugby player

My knees are more like rickety staircases

Creaking like a galleon upon a rocky ocean

My back is like a drawbridge rigid when bending

My arms like helicopter blades

Not so flexible for defending

Yet I still rise in the morning with the cockerel

Come home in evening with the cows

Raise my crops on the Rugby pitch

When the storms come I plough my furrowed brows

Now I'm an old Rugby player 

My poetry comes out much more like ee cummings

So modern and irreverent to formal rules some how

I no longer follow that old referee's whistle

When he blows it at grammatical fouls

Ignore Homer and Shakespeare and Wordsworth's Epistles

I prefer all the new poets now

For I'm in the avant-garde vanguard bringing up the rear

In my attack, from the back I haven't any fear

Now I'm an old Rugby player