Happy Anniversary to Me!

27 Apr

chickenanniversary

 

WordPress has told me that today is my 1st anniversary on here… Just want to thank all my readers for reading.  Here’s to more!!

Kerching!!!

:-)

It’s been almost a year…

6 Apr

HB

So, I’ve had this blog running now for just about a year… I’ve enjoyed composing my rhymes, my funnies, for you and for Rob.  I hope you’ve enjoyed my little stories as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them.  It’s just for fun, nothing serious, and a way for me to relax and escape to another little world inside my head.  I just wanted to thank each and every one of you who have opened the pages and read my work.  And more thanks to those who have taken the time to comment.  Keep the comments coming!  I hope to continue with the rhymes, and would appreciate some feedback or suggestions as to themes or what you’d like to read about on here.

So once again, thank you all.  It’s been fun and I’ve enjoyed it.  Here’s to the next year…

Spread the word!! :-)

Rob’s coming to Dublin!!!

16 Mar

Robbie Dublin

Rob thank you, you have made my year…
As if you didn’t know!
I knew you’d not leave Dublin out!
Excited? Does it show? :-D
**
I’d waited and I’d waited…
I’d prayed, and prayed some more
That Rob would come to Dublin,
As he had done before.
**
I’d tweeted Rob and Olly
To try to egg them on,
And I guess it worked, ‘cos listen up…
They’re coming, bring it on!!!
**
So just a few short weeks ago
The tickets went on sale…
The presale first, oh God, more prayers!
‘Cos this time, I can’t fail…
**
So did I fail? Not likely!
Think I was first in the queue
To buy my Dublin tickets,
And I did, tell me, did you???
**
So roll on Dublin – June 14th,
The highlight of my year!!
I’ll see you then Rob, brace yourself…
For the famous Dublin cheer!!!
**

Thoughts and memories…

6 Feb

Just thinking back to late last year
The memories still vivid…
But had I missed the Dublin gig
My God, I’d have been livid!!
**
But I was there, a magic night!
And one I’ll always treasure…
And yes, the one and only Rob
Is still my guilty pleasure!
**
I know I’m moving on in years
In fact I feel decrepit!!
But that won’t stop that yearning lust,
Nor will I bloody let it!!
**
I can’t describe the yearning lust
That grips me when I think
Of Rob, his smile, his laugh, his eyes,
His sexy little wink…

for you

The birdies on his tummy
Are forever in my mind,
But it’s what he’s hiding further down
That I would like to find…
**
That night last year in Dublin
Made all my dreams come true,
Well nearly all, I’m saving one…
Ahem, it’s way too blue!

To Scrummy & Carnspindle

True Robbie friends will understand
Just what it meant to me
And my friend Scrummy Mummy
As we fought the urge to pee!!
**
Our troubles were forgotten
As Rob sang Eternity…
So beautifully, word for word
For Scrummy and for me.
**
All I can say is thank you Rob
For that night last September
You spoke to me and sang to me
A night I’ll sure remember…

that smile

I know you’re coming home soon Rob
To honour your commitments,
So now I’ll ask you one wee thing…
Can I see your equipment??
**
I know, it’s rude, can’t help myself,
It’s lust, it’s ever present!
If you don’t ask, then you don’t get…
My lust for Rob’s incessant!!!
**
I’d best go now, I’ll leave it there
Sorry if I was rude…
Can’t help it, when I think of Rob
My thoughts are somewhat crude!
**
So if you are still reading this,
Thank you for your attention!
Please leave a comment down below…
Next time you’ll get a mention!
**

My Old Belfast

27 Jan

belfast-by-night_2092241b

I’ll speak to you, dear stranger, if you really want to know,
So listen , and I’ll tell you why I love this city so.
Belfast is an Ulsterman with features dour and grim,
It’s a pint of creamy porter and a Sunday morning hymn;
The dingy little café where they serve you dainty teas.
It’s up the road to the anchor, for lots of vinegar on hot peas.
**
It’s a banner on July the twelfth, a sticky toffee apple,
A righteous little gospel hall, a Roman Catholic chapel;
‘Twas a paper boy shouting “telly, sixth”, a piece of apple tart,
A fry upon a Saturday, or a coal breek on a cart.
Do you mind a Corporation gas man, complete with bowler hat,
A wee shop at the corner, a friendly bit of chat.
**
An oul lad in a duncher, the woman in a shawl,
A pinch of snuff, a tattie farl, a Loyal Orange Hall.
The tobacco smell in York street, a beg of yella man,
An Easter egg that’s dyed with whins, a slice of ormo pan.
The wee lad with spricks in an oul glass jar,
The preacher at the customs house, or an old Victorian bar.
**
Mud banks on the lagan when the tide is running low,
The men collecting refuse , bonfires in sandy row;
A bag of salty dullis, a boul of Irish stew,
A goldfish bought in Gresham Street, a preacher at the queue.
It’s a portrait of King Billy upon a gable wall,
A flower seller on a stool, outside the city hall.
**
A half moon round the door step, a polis man on guard,
A man whose crying “delf for regs”, a little whitewashed yard.
It’s the Mays market on a Friday, the ships lined at the docks,
It’s a shiny polished fender, a bunch of green shamrocks;
It’s herrings fried in oaten meal, with a drink of buttermilk;
It’s a snowy linen handkerchief as soft as finest silk.
**
O’Hara’s bap with country butter, a dander round the zoo,
A climb up tough Ben Madigan to get a splendid view.
It’s a bunch of savoury scallions, a plate of buttery champ,
Hopscotch on the footpath, a swing around a lamp.
Delf dogs on the mantelpiece, the wee man from the pru,
The chimney sweep on his bicycle, coming to do the flue.
**
The ever present vista of the hills of Castlereagh,
The deathless hush on Saturday when footie teams play away,
Killarney’s lakes and fells, on the bells of the assembly hall,
Spikey broken bottles stuck on the backyard wall.
It’s bacon boiled with pamphrey, served when piping hot,
With skerry spuds, balls of flour, cracked laughing in the pot.
**
It’s the smell of mansion polish on the lino in the hall,
Sunday school excursion, a treat for one and all;
It’s the islandmen who build great ships that take us far to sea,
It’s S.D. Bells in Ann Street where they sell the finest tea;
It’s fish and chips in paper, on a Friday from Johnny Longs;
The Sally Army Band on Sunday to save the sinning throng.
**
It’s a wee walk up the Lisburn Road and back by the Malone,
The Albert Clock in High Street with its rich and mellow tone.
It’s a Barney Hughes hot cross bun, a canary in a cage,
The old men talking in the park of a past and better age;
It’s the sharp expressive dialect of everyone at large,
A ton of coal on the lagan a floating in a barge.
**
It’s wemen on the windystool when the summer sun shines down,
A “v” of apple tattie or a wee race into town.
It’s a needle to an anchor in Smithfield’s famous mart,
I think I’d better call a halt before I break my heart.
And that’s the answer stranger and now I’m sure you’ll see,
Why Belfast is the only place in all the world for me.
**
Based on an original idea
By Bill Nesbitt

**

This is another poem I came across recently.  It’s a great account of Old Belfast, and some of the things mentioned in it will only be understood by folk from Belfast! Enjoy.  I won’t be taking the credit for this one either, though I’m not sure who wrote it.  If anyone can help in that regard, please leave a comment…

The Ballad of William Bloat

27 Jan

 

William Bloat

In a mean abode on the Skankill Road
Lived a man named William Bloat.
He had a wife, the curse of his life,
Who continually got his goat.
So one day at dawn, with her nightdress on
He slit her bloody throat.
**
With a razor gash he settled her hash
Oh never was crime so quick…
But the steady drip on the pillow slip
Of her lifeblood made him sick.
And the pool of gore on the bedroom floor
Grew clotted, cold and thick.
**
And yet he was glad he had done what he had
As she lay there stiff and still,
But a sudden awe of the angry law
Struck his heart with an icy chill.
So to finish the fun so well begun
He resolved himself to kill.
**
So he took the sheet from his wife’s coul’ feet
And twisted it into a rope,
And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf,
‘Twas an easy end, let’s hope.
In the face of death with his latest breath
He solemnly cursed the Pope.
**
But the strangest turn to the whole concern
Is only just beginning.
He went to Hell but his wife got well
And she’s still alive and sinnin’,
For the razor blade was German made
But the sheet was Belfast linen.
**

By Raymond Calvert

**

I learned this poem by heart when I was a child, and I used to recite it often. I can still remember every word, and believe me, I’m no longer a child. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have for all these years…

See you soon Rob…

13 Jan

 

robbie_williams_take_the_crown

 

Happy New Year!

31 Dec

robbie_williams_take_the_crown

The year is drawing to a close
And what a year it’s been…
We’ve lived it with our best friend Rob
Who sang twice for the Queen!
**
He serenaded Liz in style
While looking rather hot
I couldn’t hide my excitement
I almost lost the plot!
**
I danced and sang while Robbie played,
My dog thought I’d gone mental!
But Robbie does strange things to me
Although it’s accidental!
**
He makes me laugh, he makes me cry,
He makes my heart race faster!
And when he’s singing in my car
My driving’s a disaster!!!
**
Oh Robbie I have asked you loads
Will you come to Belfast?
And do a little private gig?
I know you’d have a blast!
**
If Rob says yes, I promise you
That I’ll invite a few
New friends that I have met this year…
I think you all know who…
**
There’s Silke, Jules and Moonii,
LA Pam, Scosha and Sue,
There’s Sara and Miss Sexy,
There’s Dirce and Jenny too…
**
There’s Julia, Fi and Laura,
There’s Amanda, Cat as well,
There’s Suzy and there’s Kezzie,
And of course, there’s my friend Mel!
**
There’s Sally, Jac and Alison,
There’s Chony and Louise,
There’s Tasha, Eims and Luacen,
Julie and Summereve.
**
To all my friends, I wish you well
And a Happy New Year!!!
Let’s hope 2013
Is filled with Robbie cheer!!
**
To Rob and band, we thank you
For a mighty Robbie year!
So proud of Rob for what he’s done…
Now send him over here!!
**

A Story of Christmas Eve…

24 Dec

santa2

A little boy on Christmas Eve
Was waiting in his bed
For Santa Claus to visit him
Dressed head to toe in red.
**
He tried to sleep but couldn’t,
Excitement overtook!
He hid beneath his duvet
And tried to read a book.
**
With one eye on his stocking,
Hung with care upon his bed,
He was watching out for Santa
And Rudolf pulling the sled…
**
But tiredness crept up on him
He fought to stay awake
He thought he’d put the light on
But that was a mistake…

Continue reading

Happy Twelf Pubs Tricky Hayes!

21 Dec

teeshirt

A tee shirt’s now winging its way
‘cross the pond to WeHo in LA…
Happy Christmas to Merk!
Wear it well, with a smirk!
And enjoy your “Twelf Pubs” Tricky Hayes!
**

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