Contents:

·         Cat

·         Caterpillar

·         Christmas When

·         Frankie Wankie

·         Junira Nations

·         Approaching Twenty

·         Mná

·         Joan Maguire

·         My Love Bites

·         Lily White Breast

·         Alan Mullally’s Song (Now I’m Leaving)

·         The Hero

·         Kim Bassinger’s Diet

·         Statue

·         The Great God Pan

·         Worms

·         Spare a Thought

·         Resolution

·         Jimmy Loves Mary

·         Books

·         In Slattery’s

·         Krunchy and Milady

·         The Da

·         The Great Six-O

·         My Garden

·         Female Modes of Dress (or The Miniskirt)

·         Good Morning

·         The Dance in the Village Hall

·         Typing Section

·         Vacant Mood

·         Do You Yen for a Feel

·         Obsessed

·         Silver Wedding

·         Corrakit

·         The Civil Servant

·         The New Daughter of Houlihan

·         Mayo in July

·         Home Computers

·         Lewinsky

·         Jacussy

·         Tit Shaking

·         Paddy Macaroni

·         Hour on a Bean

The Outrageous Poems of Krunchie Killeen:

THE DA

You wonder why I look so sad,

So dishevelled and unshaved:

It's because my Daddy is a cripple

And my Mammy's in her grave.

Yes, my Daddy is a cripple

And a right contrary man,

And, when he has his Fits of Temper,

It's then I miss my Mam.

For she was very nimble

About her nursing job.

As soon as Da began to rage,

She'd belt him on the gob.

She was the most effective nurse

That you ever saw.

She hit him many times with force,

Yet never broke his jaw.

And, when she hit him once like that,

'Twas like a flow of Grace;

Da became relaxful

And Peace was on his face.

He often rested peacefully

For five long hours or more,

His head hung limply forward,

And not the slightest snore.

But now he rages all day long,

Complaining of his woes.

So, I've decided, once for all,

That my Daddy goes.

I know that I shall miss him,

For I truly love the Da.

I'll hit him with the hatchet,

The way I hit the Ma.

I know that they’ll be happier

United up above,

And wait for me, all tenderly,

With familial love.

So, I'll sharpen up the hatchet,

And I'll ready make his grave,

And, the day before the funeral,

I'll clean myself and shave.

And all will be right tidy,

I won't make a mess of blood

Like when I killed the Mammy:

That would not be good.

Da was very jaded

After cleaning up that mess.

But, when I chop his head of,

I must mop up myself.

So, this time there will be no mess.

All will be right clean.

His head will go with one swift blow

O'er a sheet of polythene.

I'll wrap up in the polythene

The head, the trunk, the lot,

And bury them right neatly

Down by the cabbage plot.

I'll bury them right neatly

Down by the garden wall

Between his wife and four proud sons:

He truly loved them all.

He loved them; I loved them too.

I much regret their deaths.

But they all got what they deserved;

Each was, in his way, a pest.

But the biggest pest survived the rest,

For that truly is the Da.

Now I'm filled with zest, I'll enjoy the best

Hatcheting him,

Ha haaaaaaa!

Copyright

You may copy the poems for your own amusement, but you may not distribute or perform any poem publicly or for reward until you have obtained my consent.

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