I’m not a stalker
I simply adore ya –
Had your pictures all over my wall!
This wasn’t planned
I just bribed the stagehand;
It didn’t take too much at all!
I knew it was love
Sent from above
When you smiled as you sang
‘Twelfth of never’ –
The look in your eye
Said you would comply,
And we’d be together forever…

All I want is your time
And a bottle of wine;
And I’m sure after this you will see –
That we are soul mates
It wasn’t just fate;
You and I were both meant to be!
So I’ll have standing by
A Registrar who
Could marry us
Right then and there!
I’m down on my knees!
While you’ve still got
A full head of hair!



I’m a sucker for a ginger nut
To dunk into me cuppa;
Or Jamaican ginger cake –
A slice or two for supper

An ice-cold ginger beer
Gives me so much pleasure;
And I believe Ed Sheeran
Is a national treasure…

I even like Prince Harry
(I’m really not that fussy…) –
But I just can’t feel the love
For my ginger pussy!

When she sits upon my lap
No matter what I wear,
Will very soon be covered
In an inch of ginger hair…

And she only has to walk past
Or brush against a wall –
And I’m choking on the fluffy air
And spewing a fur-ball!

It seems every time I cook
And everything I taste –
Has a ginger hair or two
Lurking on the plate

When friends come for a meal
We try and make a joke –
When they free their teeth of ginger hair
Before they start to choke

They sit there looking stunned;
Shifting in the chair –
‘At least it’s from a cat!’ We say –
‘It’s not a pubic hair!’

I really don’t have ‘gingerism’-
Love the colour and the taste;
But affection for a ginger cat –
To me is so misplaced…

So don’t get a cat that’s ginger!
Get one that doesn’t shed !
Like one of those weird hairless ones –
Get one of those instead!



I want to be Pam Ayres!
She’s such a funny poet!
Her one-liners are pure brilliance;
I’m funny – I just can’t show it!

She takes a fact of life
And turns it on its head –
She tells a tale – it makes them laugh;
With me they groan instead!

Her intonation is perfection!
The yokel accent bought her fame –
My Black Country tone somehow
Just doesn’t sound the same!

And she really looks after her teeth!
Hers are pearly white!
I try not to smile too much –
It gives the folks a fright!

I want to be Pam Ayres!
Opportunity knocked for her;
She is stinking rich now
And has her own chauffeur!

I have this silly daydream
That some day at ‘spoken word’;
Pam Ayres will be sitting there
And she’ll LOVE what she has heard!

So she’ll ask me to support her
When she’s next on tour,
And from there I’ll start a business –
A poet entrepreneur!

But for now I’ll count my blessings
And won’t make too much fuss
About the fact that I am skint,
And get about by bus!!



As I held you in my arms;
A new life force
With tomorrow in your eyes –
I promised you a world
Of wonder, of peace,
Of constant sunrise
Where darkness was just
A figment of our imagination…
I promised you
Many Sisters and Brothers
From every nation…
Homes with doors open wide
So you could just step inside
And receive what you needed…
I promised you
There was nothing to fear;
And if you were ever afraid
You could shout,
I would hear…
I promised you
A world of equality –
That we would all be respected;
Not infected with a hatred
For being different…
I promised you
That we all loved the earth
And took good care;
That everything we grew was shared;
And no-one ever went hungry…

I promised you the moon and stars
As my heart bursts with love
I weep –
I made you promises I could not keep…



I hate frilly clothing
All layers and too much fuss,
And I think designer handbags
Are so superfluous;
Nail extensions, manicures;
Hours in the chair –
I wouldn’t have the patience
If I was a millionaire!
You can keep your pamper sessions,
I haven’t got the time,
To visit a beautician
And get covered in some slime!
As for body waxing,
I think it’s just absurd;
It keeps me insulated
When my legs are furred!
Hair stylists bore me rigid –
All that banal chat;
When my hair looks a mess
I’d sooner wear a hat!
My man says ‘you’re high maintenance!’
He doesn’t have a clue,
So I’ve siphoned off the bank accounts
Before I say ‘adieu’!



My man likes to cook
The kitchen is his lair –
You should see what he can do
With an avocado pear!

He doesn’t weigh or measure
Just leaves it all to fate;
At times you can’t distinguish
The food that’s on your plate!

He swears like Gordon Ramsay
But he’s a cooking amateur;
A style that’s much more greasy spoon
Than restaurant Cordon Bleu!

It is common place to hear
The CRASH of pot and pan –
But bless him, he’s a trier
Is my culinary man!

When I watch him with his chopper
He turns my knees to jelly;
And my thoughts become improper
When I see him rub pork belly!

I want to be the cream
In the bowl that he whips!
Or the joint that he’s trussed up!
Or the veggies that he strips!
We blend so well together
But let me clarify –
I’m tired of discussing
Fifty ways with stir-fry!

So it’s time he left the kitchen
For a date with me –
We could go out for a meal
And drink some cold chablis…
Maybe if he’s lucky
He might even ‘score’;
(That’s if we arrive before
They serve the petit fours!)

So come on! Hang up your whites!
It’s time now to reform!
Please take me out to dinner –
Before I turn luke-warm!

Then when it’s all over –
You’ve paid the bill ‘tres grande’
I’ll break it to you gently
Your cooking is now banned!