The Friday Poetry Thread

(To the tune of Robin Hood) TM Tiger Tone


Tiger Tone, Tiger Tone, Tiger Fooking Tone,
Tiger Tone, Tiger Tone, Goes on and Fooking on,
Tiger Fooking Tone,
Goes On and Fooking On,
Tiger Tone, Tiger Tone, Tiger Tone,

I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas
just like the one's we always get
With rain and puddles
and present muddles
as you go shopping in the wet

Are you Freathy in disguise?

alannotivvy wrote:

Are you Freathy in disguise?

Keep on subject or the seadog will using his rod on you

To the man who hears the Janner sirens wail
To the man who's tyres are full of nails
To the man with a million posts on Twitter
To the man with a million photos on Flickr
To the man who's on a Rickler hunt
You deluded, nauseating, bullying ....

Take a bow, Dick 'clap clap clap'  

crimbo cards ahoy,
crimbo cards ahoy,
the pigs a twat,
crimbo cards will be ahoy..soon

To the tune of Vivaldi's Four Seasons.

Tomorrow we play in the cup,
I just can't be arsed to go up.

O Little Town of Bethlehem : Lyrics

O little town of Excretia
How carp your football is
Above thy deep and broken sleep
The big clubs sail on by
Yet in thy dark Sid James Park
The fans are full of sheite
The truth and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight

For Argyle play in the cup
And you just watch and stare
While your fans wish the Argyle dish
The cup up to their fans
Our players strive and score the goals
Proclaim the FA Cup
And praises sing to Shezz the King
Lets pith on those up the road.

Dick Trickle wrote:

To the man who hears the Janner sirens wail
To the man who's tyres are full of nails
To the man with a million posts on Twitter
To the man with a million photos on Flickr
To the man who's on a Rickler hunt
You deluded, nauseating, bullying ....

Dick Trickle wrote:

To the man who hears the Janner sirens wail
To the man who's tyres are full of nails
To the man with a million posts on Twitter
To the man with a million photos on Flickr
To the man who's on a Rickler hunt
You deluded, nauseating, bullying ....

Runt?


Classic Mr. Trickle.

This one for POI and his dog


My long-eared dog is very sweet.
He loves to lick my stinky feet.
And that is why I’d use my mace
before I’d let her lick my face.

Tgwu wrote:

This one for POI and his dog


My long-eared dog is very sweet.
He loves to lick my stinky feet.
And that is why I’d use my mace
before I’d let her lick my face.

OMG I've done my back in
Xmas time boss thinks I'm slacking
I kid you not I cannot move
For me this year no xmas grooves
Hot water bottles on my back
Lots of Daniels, namely Jack
lot's of Codeine prescribed by doc
Xmas this year couldn't give a Fok

Driving home for Christmas,
Why not take a pic,
If the coppers catch you,
It's Christmas in the Nick.

The seadog's comin' home again,
He likes a bit of Muff,
A wench in every port he says,
I heard he was a puff,
He likes a bit of stuffin'
But does he like the bird?
Maybe a little bit of both,
It's shocking what I've heard

Welcome back salty, Merry Christmas

Oh dannyboy(75) oh dannyboy 
Where have you been
ATD has been waiting for you
We hope you have not been deleted from positi

Thought I'd have a gander,
At the old poetry thread,
Kinel it's nearly midnight,
I'm off to bed instead.

A sombre note this week,
Disgruntled psychos take a God's name in vain,
To avenge perceived blasphemy,
It's a strange world, init?

Where's the emotion?
Where's the anger?
Minimum wages
Put people in danger.
Fill the streets,
Shout and roar,
I'm all right Jack,
Ladder up,
Close the door.

Car is fecked
fed up reading manuals
Wifey pass my favorite glass
I'm going for jack Daniels.

There's trouble at the rugger,
The Farquars are all broke,
Not quite so you bugger,
Results have been a joke,
They've stopped coming to the matches,
And spending all their dosh,
Deserting in their batches,
Giles, Rupert and posh Josh,
They loved to quaff the champers,
Smoked salmon's on their list,
Get back in their Range Rovers,
And drive home three parts pissed.

Santa has been
Santa has gone
And all we have seen
Is this stupid song ...


Oh and 1 point.

Dreaming

Floating

Screaming

Silently

Must Sleep More

Cannot sleep less

All work and no play, makes Mocky C a dull pseudonym.

Friday comes round one more time
Thought I'd write a little rhyme
any more is up you
so this little bit will have to do.