Toy Boy...

TOY BOY FLY.
Toy boy
toy boy
toy boy fly,
how does
toy boy fly
get by?
Step by step
and
try by try
that's how
toy boy fly
gets by!

Daddy Wise...

NUMBER THREE
Put your botty
on the potty
do a little wee

Put your botty
on the potty
do a little poo

If you can't do
a one or two
do a number three

Put your botty
on the potty
little Jack Batty
First published in Proper Trog

Fat Daddy...

FRESH MEAT
When fat daddy's hungry beware of his stare.
He'll eat you for breakfast, he just doesn't care.
He'll pick you right up and examine your feet.
He's glued to his chair, he's too fat for his seat.
He'll gobble your toes whole and bite off your nose.
He'll eat you all up 'cos he just wants fresh meat.

Previously published in Proper Trog.

Jack Jack Jack...

PHOTOGENIC JACK.
Photo crazy,
photo genie,
photogenic Jack.
Daddy's got a camera,
he takes some snaps of Jack.
His mummy zooms to 'Foto-Fast'
to rush those pictures back
for photo crazy,
photo genie,
photogenic Jack.

BITEY FACE.
Oh Jack Batty what a bitey face you've got!
You must just have had some bitey drops.
One to make you happy,
two to make you smile,
three to make you bitey face
and four to make you cry...

CLOCKS.
Old clocks
new clocks
brass clocks
blue!
Jack Batty
likes clocks
They don't
have to
go tic toc
any clock
will do
Tic toc
tic toc
Cuckoo!
THE ABOVE RHYMES ARE TAKEN FROM MY PUBLICATION PROPER TROG

Nearly Nearly?...

NEARLY NEARLY?
Previously published in Proper Trog.
Jack can nearly play football
'cos Jack can nearly walk.
Jack can nearly spell his name
'cos Jack can nearly talk.

Nearly nearly? No not really!
There's not much Jack can't face.
Upon his little tricycle
he scoots from place to place.

Jack can nearly feed himself
'cos Jack's got his own spoon.
Jack can nearly sleep all night
'cos Jack's got his own room.

Nearly nearly? No not really!
There's not much Jack can't do.
Upon his little tricycle
he zooms from room to room.

CLINKETH THE LINKETH! >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Hard Cheddar Cheese...

HARD CHEDDAR CHEESE
Previously published in Proper Trog.
Jack's got a big boy's cot
Shelly's got a china pot
So what's Mummy got?
Tell me please!
Mummy's got dry rot
That's what Mummy's got
Big boys cot, china pot,
Dry rot, so what?
Jack's got a smelly bott
So what's shelly got?
Tell me please!
Shelly's got a coat of fleas
That's what Shelly's got
Big boys cot, china pot
Dry rot, smelly bott.
Coat of fleas, so what?
Mummy's got a beauty boat
Shelly's got a bitey face
So what's Jack got?
Tell me please!
Jack's got cheeky chops
That's what Jack's got
Big boys cot, china pot,
Dry rot, smelly bott,
Coat of fleas, beauty boat,
Bitey face, cheeky chops,
Hard Cheddar Cheese!
CLINK THE LINK Don't you know?
You can e-mail this post to a friend!
Just CLINK THE LINK on the envelope below.

Madness in Salford...

SALFORD
MADNESS
COMMUNITY
CHURCH
Previously published in Poetry Now.
If I was the vicar
of this church
the first thing
I'd do is take
down the sign
that says:
No right of way
to public
No cycling
I'd invite the kids
down to spray
paint the walls
I'd stick up a
notice that said:
Public right of way
Cyclists welcome
punctures repaired
But perhaps there's
a method in their
madness after all.

Two Rhymes...

BRITISH CHEESE.
It's all a con
this British cheese
it's all pre-packed
and processed
Cheshire's made
in Lancashire!
and so is all the rest...
in a factory north of Wigan
with a west country address.

LONDON TRADER.
My old dad's a London trader
he's no back street salesman
he works a pitch up Oxford Street
selling watches when he can.
They're franked and stamped
and wrapped and packed
they're fully guaranteed
yer genuine Swiss kettles
made in Hong Kong.
But you won't catch him
up West, on a saturday
'cos he goes down to Upton Park
to see those Hammers play.
He's even bin up north,
to Watford, to watch 'em play away
he came back Brahms and Listz
boozing all the way
Oh, he's a Cockney,
he likes a knees-up now and then
for he's a London trader
the best street salesmen!

Romance That's Romance...

ROMANCE THAT'S ROMANCE
No accident of fate or chance

we planned our dreams we chose romance
I planned to meet you in my mind
you chose to be there too
I wear denims you wore jeans
I like to disco you love to dance

You like to disco I love to dance

I wore denims you wear jeans

you chose to be there too

you planned to meet me in your mind

we planned our dreams and that's romance

No accident of fate or chance

250882

Previously published in StraightTalkingStreetTalkingSweet (c) Andy Sewina 1988
YOU CAN BOOKMARK THIS PAGE!

Frankie Vine...

@ PIER HEAD
By the Mersey
yesterday
a carry out
to take away
cold night
corpse sleeps
newsprint blanket
cardboard cot
drunken dreamer
destitute
old at twenty
friend of mine
Frankie Vine
found dead
@ Pier Head.
AS21084
As submitted to Liverpool's Poem800 at: www.poem800.com

Gordon Blue...

BLUE MIDNIGHT.
Blue midnight
spent unconscious,
in rat route, rodent row.
A restauranteur
ejected from side door!
Move over rats and let
Gordon make his final bow
on the snow like surface glow
of rat route rodent row.
The rusted iron cladding
of escape ladders denying
any light the moon might
give the right to cast
her yellow path below.
ASPP1988
Previously published in StraightTalkingStreetTalkingSweet (c) Andy Sewina 1988

For Ruth...

HOLLYWOOD BOWLED OVER.
Gordon took the Freeway
airport bound.
A taxi ride to JFK
for the late flight to LA.
The traffic kept
the smog count high
And Gordon's gin, kept him.
A champagne party all the way
'till the touch down in LA
Then he staggered
to the nearest bar
just in time
for the 'Happy Hour'
Sunset Strip,
Gordon can't see,
Hollywood bowled over!
STSTSPP1991

Ratcatcher...

RATCATCHER...
Gordon's a drinker,
he likes to get off,
on his own
he goes to places that
even most wino's don't know
There's big rats
in New York City,
with rich pickings
in hotel trash.
Now, if rats will
eat pig-swill,
they may grow
as fat as pigs someday.
Over to you, Ratcatcher,
what have you found?
Gordon's asleep in a sewer!
Do you think he looks well?
I don't know, I don't think!
You do, to say what you said,
you just did.
Well, if pigs could fly,
we'd sure have a rat infested sky!
B4-1984
Please note that I have posted a re-written version of Ratcatcher on SweetTalkingGuy..

Music Street...

OK, THIS IS WHAT I DO!!!
MUSIC STREET...
Down on the street where
the puppy dogs meet
and the big dogs mate
by the back alley
where Gordon met his fate
that's where the rats
come up for air
so watch your ankles
if you're strolling down there
and pull your hat
down over your eyes
or you'll think it's snowing
when the pigeons fly
I guess that's why
the boys wear boots
on Music Street
they're no good for dancing
but they keep your ankles
strapped to your feet
I said they're no good for dancing
but they keep your ankles
strapped to your feet.
101082
OK, IT'S YOUR TURN, PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT!

McFcuk

FIRST POST
Welcome to Straight talking, Street talking, Sweet... This being my first post, I'll tell you what the initials McFcuk stand for. They stand for Manchester City Football Club UK. Simple as that! That being said, this blogspot has nothing much to do with football. Well maybe, I'll give it a mention here and there. Anyway! you're going to have to come back to this address if you really want to find out what I do, as this is just a quick first post.
ABOUT ME.
My pen/stage name is Danny Wise. I write really bad rhymes. So bad I've been told, that my rhymes don't actually rhyme! How bad's that? Anyway, I published a few booklets of my rhymes several years ago and I used to recite a few of them in a couple of pubs and clubs. I even managed to sell a few copies over the years, mainly of my Salford stuff. Funnily enough I only lived in Salford for a couple of years but people always seem to remember me as a Salford Poet. My poetry got so bad at one stage that I decided to concentrate on song lyrics. I'll warn you now though, that I have written over six hundred song lyrics. Fortunately for you, a lot of them are indecipherable as they are scrawled on the back of envelopes and supermarket reciepts.
OSCAR WILDE.
In his story The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, the character in chapter 4 says: "Inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of second rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible." THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY, WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN LIPPINCOTTS MAGAZINE 6/3/1891.
MY PROFILE.
You can read my blogger profile if you clink the link aka Danny Wise in the green bit on the right hand side at the top of this page.
SweetTalkingGuy
My all new pub-poetry blog SweetTalkingGuy.. is now Online at: www.sewina.blogspot.com