Kids n Krumblies

Twer a wet summers day up in Owdham,
An the roses as allas were in bud,
Wellies were lined up inth back yard,
Ma’s an’Fathers an’t kids caked wi’mud

It ád rained for a month wi’out stoppin’
An’t lanes were all puddles an slime
But it didn’t worry Wilf an ís family
They were off for their hols in’t sunshine

Wilf’s Father ád cashed in thinsurance
He’d bin payin at two bob a week
Said an ’oliday was just wot they needed
As for future, it only looked bleak

Father’d booked them some seats on a shara,
The best ones that money could buy,
So Wilf went for seven days off to Blackpool
Land o’Bingo Hot Dogs an’Blue Skies.

But when they got there it were raining,
On th’beach donkeys steamed and were wet
Father carefully considered situation,
Then went off t’bookies for a bet.

Wilf never saw Father again
Ma looked after family all week
When Wilf asked what áppened to Father
She said he was playin ’ Ide an Seek

On last day Wilf still ’addent found ‘im.
Ma found a new bloke so she ‘ad,
So Wilf came back to Owdham on th’ shara
Wi’ t’other kids Ma and new Dad.

As I walked up to St Peter’s Gate,
A voice called out “Sorry you’re too late”
“The Good folks has been counted in”
“Join that queue, They’re repenting sin”.

So head hung low I joined the line,
If only I had come on time,
This line could lead me straight to Hell,
I was in the wrong queue, I knew damn well.

So I climbed back up to St Peter’s Gate,
Said “Excuse me but I’m sorry mate,
I know I sinned some years ago,
When told to come I had to go”.

“That’s a small sin” he said “I’ll check with Pete”.
I smiled and thought “Good no retreat”.
Within a flash the angel returned
His clothes all charred his wing tips burned.

“My gosh” I said “What happened to you”?
There was thunder and the air turned blue
I’d never heard an angel swear,
Particularly one with golden hair.

“I told Pete your story, he said was it a blow,
When you were told to come but you had to go?
If you’d come then, you’d not be here now
And I wouldn’t have got in such a row”.

“So Pete’s instruction is simple and clear,
You must go back to earth for another year,
Next time make sure you come when called,
In the meantime you’ll lose your teeth and go bald”.

That was just a year ago and this is now,
It was difficult but I did it somehow,
Not a tooth in my head and no comb required,
We both came together and then I expired.

Now with the Good folks being counted in,
On time, this time, and free from sin,
But nightmares and memories I still have some,
Of having to go when I should have come.

We no longer need our names,
As numbers take their place,
If you don’t know your number,
Then nobody knows your face.

You have a real big problem,
But you really won’t be missed,
Although you may not know it
Your numbers on the list!

Mixed up with all the others
The lists go up and down
Through the wires and in the air
Of city street and town.

Your number being selected,
May make you happy or sad,
A winning number Lotto ticket,
Would never be so bad,

But when your last numbers up,
Then there’s nowhere else to go,
You find yourself on one last list
With a string tied round your toe.

You no longer need your number,
As your body turns cold and blue
And you lose your digits one by one
Or maybe two by two!

What it is rite I got vis new ‘obby,
An with it no one can compete,
Sumtimes I ‘ave to use me head,
But make very likkle use of me feet.

I goes to me office each fortnite,
An sumtimes I goes once a weak,
An when I gets ver, I talks fer a bit,
‘Bowt wot kind of job vat I seek,

I tell ‘em I’ve looked at v papers,
An’ asked everywun vat I no,
I writes on a form vat av done no work,
An’ after it’s soon time to go.

So if you like to sit n watch telly,
Or ‘ang on v street wiv yer mate.
Ya might like to try me new ’obby
An like me get yer pay from v state.

What it is rite I love me new ‘obby,
Cos it suits me right down to a t,
As everyone else does all v ard work,
But v clever wun vat gets paid is me!

God gives us boils upon our bums to keep us standing straight,
He gives us upset in our tums to make sure we’re sometimes late.
God gives us pain deep in our ears to let us know he’s there,
He gives us eyes that fill with tears for onions that we share.

God gives us teeth so we can bite, and rip and tear and chew,
When teeth fall out and gums get light he gives us Irish stew.
God gives us knees that ache and crack and eyes so we can see,
He gives us legs that go forward and back to get us from A to B

God gives us a nose so we can smell and wipe our winters drips
He gives us many tales to tell and fish and peas with chips.
God gives us summer sun and rain and autumn wind and showers,
He gives us snowy winter fun in short and frosty daytime hours.

God gives us heat so we can hold cold hands against the fire,
He gives us clothes for us to fold and beds for when we tire,
God gives us toilets for us to use and clean around the rim,
He gives us everything we need but what do we give to Him?

We no doubt make him smile when we have to stand up straight,
And when we’re stuck upon the loo he knows he’ll make us late.
So how can we repay God for all the things he gives to us?
Dear God you made me late again, please send another bus.

And while I sit and contemplate and watch your world go by,
I’ll say thanks for all the things on earth and all within the sky,
There’s one more thing to thank God for if I may be so humble,
When I get off this bus and home God’s made some rhubarb crumble!

No more seeing you there each morning,

No more you, when I come home,

No hand in hand in the moonlight,

No precious moments now you’re gone,

All I have now, are memories,

How I loved you,

Just one tearstained photograph

By my side

Many sleepless, lonely nights.

How I miss you,

One hundred million teardrops

I have cried.

Gone are the days I prayed to see you,

Gone the lingering scent of your perfume,

Gone your sweetest smile that said "I love you"

Gone your breath of life that filled the room.

Heaven needed, one more angel

So they took you

Now you smile your smile in heaven

and I can't see,

No more walking in the sunshine,

Wherever you are, please wait for me.

A pretty belly dancer from Lees,
Used to wiggle her middle to please,
‘til a young man from Shaw
Discovered the flaw,
Of a knocking noise made by her knees.

So she moved up the road to Springhead,
And took up lion taming instead,
‘til one Friday night,
She had such a fright ,
As the lion tried to bite off her head!

So she took a new job up in Oldham,
To sew mens shirts and to fold ‘em
And what of the lion,
With cage made of iron?
An advert in ‘ Chronicle sold ‘em.