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On the Graveyard Shift many poets came in to read on the show, these included Simon Armitage, John Hegley, Ian McMillan, Glyn Maxwell, Sophie Hannah and Joolz. First up we have some short funny poems sent in by listeners then some proper ones.
I wish I was Northern, All Arsy and 'Ard, I wish I was Northern like Scrawn & Boy Lard, I wish I wa Northern, At least just a bit, Instead of a sad soft Southern git.
Here is a poem sent in by a listener to the Breakfast show when Mark and Lard were standing in for Chris Evans
Two fat sods, sitting in their chairs,
Mark said to Lard "I can see you`re underwear",
Lard said to Mark "Shut Up you Northern Git,
Basically You`re show is really rather shit".
Here is a poem written by Lard
I have a cat called Ceefer,
Ceefer Cat`s his name,
Cos Ceefer cat is very clever,
First prize in a cat naming competition I confidently claim.
But Ceefer Cat's a filthy get,
He doesn't crap in his bog,
Unlike good old Deefer Dog,
Humperdink Skink blinks,
Humperdink Skink's pink drink stinks.
'Tiddlywinks',thinks Humperdink Skink.
Plink. Down the sink.
Arse farce, passed past, last arse farce, fast.
At last! Last arse farce surpassed sparse arse farce task.
The above 2 were sent in by Sarah Trinder and are from when Edward Barton was in the studio with them.
My girlfriend's a big fan of Shed 7, She's especially fond of Rick Witter, I said cobblers to that, Take off your hat, And give us a flash of your ...
By Lard and sent in by Andy Dawson
'Our Norman is my idea of what a man is; He's a pianist in the Fannies. But why are they called the Fannies? I'll explain, if I may be blunt, 'Cos Raymond and Norm are quite nice blokes But that Jerry's a bit of a contrary type.
I don't know who wrote this but it has been posted around the internet quite a bit.
I went to a party, Mom, I remembered what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom, so I drank soda instead. I really felt proud inside, Mom, the way you said I would. I didn't drink and drive, Mom, even though the others said I should. I know I did the right thing, Mom, I know you are always right. Now the party is finally ending, Mom, as everyone is driving out of sight As I got into my car, Mom, I knew I'd get home in one piece. Because of the way you raised me, so responsible and sweet. I started to drive away, Mom, but as I pulled out into the road, The other car didn't see me, Mom, and hit me like a load. As I lay there on the pavement, Mom, I hear the policeman say, The other guy is drunk, Mom, and now I'm the one who will pay. I'm lying here dying, Mom. I wish you'd get here soon.. How could this happen to me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon. There is blood all around me, Mom, and most of it is mine. I hear the medic say, Mom, I'll die in a short time. I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn't drink. It was the others, Mom. The others didn't think. He was probably at the same party as I. The only difference is, he drank and I will die. Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life. I'm feeling sharp pains now. Pains just like a knife. The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, and I don't think it's fair. I'm lying here dying and all he can do is stare. Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave. And when I go to heaven, Mom, put "Daddy's Girl on my grave Someone should have told him, Mom, not to drink and drive. If only they had told him, Mom, I would still be alive. My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I'm becoming very scared. Please don't cry for me, Mom. When I needed you, you were always there. I have one last question, Mom, before I say good bye. I didn't drink and drive, so why am I the one to die?
Centuries ago, They called themselves the Dutch, Took control of our land but didn't bother us much, Decades ago, Twas the Indonesians, They claimed we were brothers - we and them, They took our land and tried to make us see, In brotherhood it was so easy, But we didn't know them and we weren't of their kind, And the problem wasn't that we were blind, They kept our land for their own ends, Surveyed it and introduced some friends, A warm hand for the Americans! They'll give you jobs, (which we already had) They'll make you happy, (we were never sad) The Americans came and abused our land' Introducing Freeport-McMorran, And soon arrived the British link, Introducing Rio Tinto Zinc, Mining our land was their trade, A deal for them in heaven made, For us, our homes, our soles were lost, For the sake of a high profit margin cost, They chopped our trees, mined sacred places, Polluted our streams and lied in our faces, We fought them back with sabotage, But they spied us, Decried us, Torture and death, Oppression, Scare tactics, With nothing we're left They kept us quiet from the rest of the world but we'll never die down, our voice must be heard...help.
This poem is by Mike Williams, it is about those who live on the island called West Papau.
Her desperation never showed, For years she lived on Baffield Road, According to the envelope, That brought the final loss of hope, From time to time she'd blink and shout, There's nothing to be dead about, But they'd already sprayed her grave With cheap ex-boyfriend aftershave.
She has a book out now called 'Hotels Like Houses'
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