At the Bus Stop

It was a hot day for Mabel May
And birds were dropping from the trees
And she’d been working hard
Down at St. Bart’s Confection Factory

She’s at the bus stop, her feet hurt
It’s another hour til she’s home again
And there’s this man there
He’s not so bright and probably insane

Excuse meeeeee
Cos’ you’re scaring me to bits
It’s in the middle of the night
And you’re staring at my tits

O yes, excuse meeeeee
O man you’re scaring me to bits
It’s in the middle of the night
And you’re staring at my tits

Trump’s stupidity

I don’t care if chemtrails are real
And I couldn’t care less
If aliens were probing my brains
(Or how that would feel)
I am convinced I am protected
With my Aluminium hat
And I strongly believe
Eating Cotton Candy
Won’t make me gay
No I don’t regret
Buying that 5G iPhone for sure
It won’t fry my head
Just keep me away
Do not bring me within the vincinity
Of the White House
Do not ever take me to the U.S. of A.
Cos one thing is a fact
Nothing in this world can shield me
From Trumps stupidity

Grill that Chicken, pluck your Banjo!

It’s so nice here on this campsite
Friendly people all around
Birds are chirping in the trees
Hear them singing, love that sound

Listen to that water streaming
In that river next to me
Smell of nature overwhelming
There is nothing I want more

O this camping is so joyful
Peace and quiet given me
Children playing on the square
All those wonderful things to see

So grill that Chicken, pluck your Banjo
Nothing else will please me more
Than the smell of your great cooking
And that noise you play for me