All Write

The Moya Green Collection

Xmas Carols (revised)


Away on a Jumbo

Away on a Jumbo, in search of the sun,
For Christmas at home in the cold is no fun.
We’ll swim in the warm sea, oh won’t it be grand,
And little Lord Jesus can play in the sand. 

But all flights are cancelled because of the snow
We’re packed up and ready, but nowhere to go.
It’s Christmas at Heathrow so bear it and grin.
For little Lord Jesus, no room at the inn.



We three would-be Pop Idols are


We three would-be Pop Idols are
Two in a girl band, one in a bra
Singing our ditties, shaking our titties
Desperate to be a Star.

Oh-oh, give us money by the ton
Give us our moment in the sun
Although we fake it, still let us make it,
Into our Christmas Number One!



O little town of Birmingham


O little town of Birmingham
How loud we hear thee cry
Beneath thy Xmas brilliance
The legless stagger by.
But through thy bright streets cometh
A blue and shining light
And unwise party animals
May sleep in cells tonight.

How busily, how busily
The shoppers scurry on.
With bags and baskets loaded
Their cash is nearly gone
They seek a Christmas bargain
But in this world of sin
Though credit cards will take the brunt
The bills will soon come in.


Ding Dong Merrily on Sky


Ding dong merrily on Sky
The Xmas ads are showing.
Ding dong verily let’s buy
To shopping websites going.
     Glo-o-o-o-o-oria – lamentum in extremis
     Glo-o-o-o-o-oria – lamentum in extremis

So now here on earth below
Let festive tills be rungen
And I owe, I owe, I owe
By spent-up buyers sungen.
     Glo-o-o-o-o-oria – lamentum in extremis
     Glo-o-o-o-o-oria – lamentum in extremis

Poor Old Dad


 A Father's Day poem



                                     Poor old Dad

                                       Don’t be sad

                                       We forgot all about you on Father’s Day

                                       No big box

                                       Of expensive chocs

                                       No breakfast brought upstairs on a tray.


                                        Come on Dad

                                        S’not that bad.

                                        What good’s a silly old card anyway?

                                        Believe this verse

                                        It could be worse

                                        If we’d got you a prezzie you’d have had to pay.


                                        Cheer up Dad

                                        Just be glad

                                        We love you still though you’re old and grey.

                                        Never mind

                                        We’ll be kind

                                        You can buy us all a drink on Saturday.





A Hate Poem


I hate you, I hate you

I wish you were dead

I can’t believe the horrible

Things you just said.


You told me I was ugly

You told me I was fat

You told me my breath smelled

And my chest was flat.


Can’t imagine why you think

You’re such a catch

You were never exactly

The best in the batch.


I hope all your hair falls out

I hope your willy rots

May you catch something nasty

And come out in spots.


And then when you’re sorry

Don’t come crawling to me

I’ll stamp on your fingers

And spit in your tea.


A Nice Derangement of Epitaphs


Here lies the body of Samuel Dunn
Who thought there was something wrong with his gun
One day he pulled the trigger in vain
So he peered down the barrel and tried again.


O spare a tear for poor old Fred
Who kept his gun beside the bed
Next to his phone, which wasn't wise
And sadly led to his demise.
As he lay sleeping sound, it rang ...
At least he went out with a bang.


Here lies John Pride
Who tried
To drive
And stay alive
Reading a book.
He was mistook.
Now he's better read
But dead.


In her SUV with four wheel drive
Towards the flooded bridge she sped
Alas! poor Glad would be alive
If she hadn't believed what the satnav said.


Beneath this stone lies Henry Fiennes
Who lived on cabbages and beans
Which formed a noxious distillation
(Combined with lack of ventilation)
And made him from this life depart
Poisoned by a monstrous fart.

Ill Wind


The gallant Earl of Oxford
So debonair of mien
Betook himself to London
To bow before the queen

As he bent low before her
In obeisance profound
A massive eructation
Did through the halls resound.

The courtiers gasped, the queen turned pale
Inhaling foetid air.
Th’ embarrassed Earl of Oxford
Retreated in despair.

When seven long years had passed away
In boredom, he did yearn
For court - and surely he by now
Might venture to return.

The contrite Earl of Oxford
With countenance serene
(But buttocks clenched together) stood
Again before his queen.

Elizabeth smiled upon him.
‘Welcome with all my heart!’
She cried. ‘And never fear, my lord,
We have forgot the fart.’



Love Is . . .

Love is …
The sweetest thing
Love is …
What makes the world go round
Love is …
Never having to say ‘sorry’.

What a load of bollocks.

Love is coloured pink and red
(An unpleasant combination)
On a million greetings cards
With themes from sentimental to obscene.

Love murders forests -
An environmental disaster.
A blood-red rose, price inflated
Is a bloody rip-off.

Love sells
When sold
Is no longer love.

Down the Plughole, Merrily


The world is growing warmer
It isn't hard to tell
Keep on the way we're going
We'll end up hot as Hell.

Merrily, merrily with the stream, who can resist the flow?
Into the vortex headlong plunge, gurgling as we go.

Oil slick on the ocean,
Aerosols in the air
As long as we keep flying
Buggered if we care.

Merrily, merrily pull the plug, wallowing in the spray
Biological detergent will wash our sins away.

Oven ready production lines
Profits get a boost
Not so bootiful, alas
When turkeys come home to roost.

Merrily, merrily on we go, swirling around the bend
Curse of the battery chicken pursuing us to the end.

We have to keep on spending
For that's the only way
We can be sure we're worth it
Just like the adverts say.

Merrily,merrily down the drain, our aspirations pour

Leaving our carbon footprint all over the bloody floor.

Around the money tree we chase
The complimentary lunch
Now listen to the pips squeak when
The credit starts to crunch.

Merrily, merrily stoke the flames, no-one shall go without
But when the pot boils over, the fire will fizzle out.

I am the Fairy on the Christmas Tree


I am the fairy on the Christmas tree
All shiny and white and tinselly
And everything that happens down below I see
From my vantage point on the Christmas tree.

I notice who's had a drink or three
And what hand strays onto which strange knee.
No, there isn't a lot that gets past me
Marooned up here on this blasted tree.

Who snogs who 'neath the mistletoe I see
And it in't always who it's supposed to be
But they never ever think to look out for me
I'm only the fairy on the Christmas tree.    

I saw what Tracey and her fiancey
Got up to yesterday on the sofa after tea.
They thought they were alone, they forgot about me,
Watching over them from the Christmas tree.

Now I'll send my report to the Elf Ministry
About the goings-on at number fifty-three.
Oh, the fly on the wall has nothing on me,
Your observant fairy on the Christmas tree.


The Lament of the Lonely Sock


We are apart when once we were a pair:
I need my other half to make me whole.
This severance is very hard to bear.

The washing machine doesn't seem to care
Though in its maw we started to unroll,
And come apart, when once we were a pair.

My consort was entangled in its snare
Sucked into a mechanical black hole -
This severance is very hard to bear.

No partner now my working life to share,
I cannot hope to fill my usual role
Now I'm alone, no longer in a pair.

No god of hosiery to hear my prayer
Or prospect of reunion to console.
This severance is very hard to bear.

May all who lack a sock, see my despair
Vouchsafe some comfort to my pining soul.
This severance is very hard to bear,
To be apart, when once we were a pair.

The Hundred Hamster Coat

            a horrid tale  

A jacket made of hamster skins
The law did not forbid
It hung in the shop window
Priced at a thousand quid.

"It's exquisite,"  the starlet squealed,
"So delicate and fine.
I never touched a fur so soft.
It must - it shall be mine!"

She wore it to a première
Where it was much admired.
Then hung it in her wardrobe
When she to bed retired.

At dead of night came scratching
Behind the wardrobe door
And pattering of phantom feet
Across the bedroom floor.

As wrapped in drunken dreaming
Near comatose she slept
A host of spectral rodents
Under her duvet crept.

And very shortly  "Ow!"  she cried,
"Help me! Gerroff!  That hurts!"
But no-one came to save her, she
Received her just deserts.

Next morning late they found her.
A ghastly sight was there.
Nothing left but a heap of bones
And a hank of golden hair.

All vain had been her hideous shrieks.
She might have saved her breath.
A hundred ghostly hamsters
Had nibbled her to death.

Give me your Heart

My darling, let me have your heart
I want it oh, so badly
I yearn to taste your every part
I hunger for you madly.

Your lips so sweet, you eyes so bright,
Your arms so warm and tender -
This craving is too strong to fight,
Your heart you must surrender.

And that will only be the start.
The gift exalts the giver.
So after I have had your heart
Please may I try your liver?