In days of old

In days of old, when men were bold,

And paper wasn’t invented.

They wiped their arses on bits of grasses,

And went away contented.

* * *

The Birdcatchers Song

I am a fellow bright and gay

A merry fellow night and day

My name is held in great renown

throughout the land, in every town.

Where lark and linnet tunes their note

my whistle joins the warblers note

{ cant remember the next line }

For I’m the jolly birdcatcher.

* * *

The Trout

I stood beside a brooklet

That sparkled on its way

And saw beneath the wavelets

A tiny trout at play

As swiftly as an arrow it darted to and fro

The gayest of the fishes among the reeds below

An angler there was standing with his rod and line in hand

Intent upon the fishes, that sportive fearless band

‘Tis vain said my good neighbour to fish the brooklet clear

The fish will surely see you upon the bank so near

But skillful was the angler and artful too

The crystal brooklets depths defiling – he hid the fish from view

And then his skill renewing

The fishes unheeding took the bait

And I was left lamenting the tiny troutlets fate

* * *

The ballad of Lizzie Sloan

Across the loan

Went Lizze Sloan

A dueling set had she

A rifle on her shoulder, a pistol on her knee.

Now Lizzie’s eyesight wasn’t too good

Her glasses they were dim

And when she charged the bull

It shit upon her chin.

* * *

The Soldier’s Song

Arsehole, arsehole, a soldier I will be,
To piss, to piss, two pistols at my knee,
Fuck you, fuck you, for curiosity,
I’ll fight for the cunt, I’ll fight for the cunt, I’ll fight for the cunt-er-y.

* * *

I’m a dick a dick addicted to you