Cardinal Pell said ‘go to Hell’
And downed a Rum Jamaican
Then again, ’twas very dark
Perhaps I am mistaken

Sam, Sam, the dirty old man
Washes his head with a frying pan!
Combs his hair
With the leg of a chair,
Sam, Sam, the dirty old man!

“What’s for dinner, Grandma?”

“Dead cat on hot bricks!”

I gave a young man thanks today
And he gave thanks to me
We exchanged thanks in thankful ways
And all those thanks were free

Night came round as night time does
And still we thanked away
And given how he thanked me
I was thankful he could stay

But by the time the moon came up
Our thanks began to dim
My thanks were running out of steam
But was it true for him?

Finally, to my distress,
My thanks ran down to dust
Then two thanks later his were out –
Between us we were bust!

At this we had no more to share
So sadly, that was that
And as he turned to walk away,
He winked and doffed his hat.

You thought that this god thing
Was about your own wrong and regret.
No.
I say No. But
It doesn’t matter what I say.

The God Of The Starving Dog says:
Hear me!
I hunger!
Christ almighty I hunger!
My ribs scream out my want
And a scale’s upon my eye!
And oh my children.
My children twist, and turn and snap their jaws
And spitting blood they fall upon each other,
Such is their plight!
For this
And for much besides
Your time is coming.
Even in my desolation I see your face,
And I say, I will remember you.

Thus saith the God.

Yes. Well.

Never mind about the God, but at the very least you
Should heed this from me:
You can be sure the Dog is about.
He might not be your dog
But he’s a hungry dog
And he chains and paces now,
Tonight,
Behind an old and broken fence.
You figure it out.

Posted: June 27th, 2010
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: dog, god, starving
Comments: No Comments.

To be sung by little girls with skipping rope

See the moon a sickle-horn, see the God sleep

His Doggy caught a fish in the sea so deep

Deep in the valley where the little dogs play

Down came the big Dog happy one day

Happy and sniffing he fry that fish

Put fishy things in the little dogs dish

Little dogs eat now, put it all away

Sleep with the God now, starve another day.

My glasses need cleanin’
Dear ‘Liza
Dear ‘Liza
My glasses need cleanin’
But I can’t be fucked

With what will you clean ‘em
Dear Henry
Dear Henry

With what will you clean ‘em
Dear Henry
With what

I told you
Dear ‘Liza
Dear ‘Liza
I can’t be fucked.
We’ve been married too long.
You don’t listen to a word I say.

A wayward Christian Soldier
Came buzzing at my door
Life’s problems to discuss with me
Like pestilence, famine war

Pestilence, famine, war, I said
To these I am no stranger
In fact a plague of dog and cat
Puts me in constant danger

Let me tell you Soldier Girl
About my whiskered plague:
They’ve eaten me from home and hearth
And thus a famine made

And from the depths of petly famine
Comes the breath of war
They say there will be petly blood
Spilt here upon the floor

And cat has moblised her best
Her troops are undivided
The doggish cavalry is at rest
Their rout could be decisive!

The potted plants will side with dog
(They’re sick of being eaten)
The shoes and squeaky toys with cat
(The dog will be their victim)

And so the nations of the flat
Will soon become quite tribal
Aligning now with dog and cat
(Goldfish support is vital)

They’ll join upon the Plane of Rug
In deepest South Lounge Room
One side will sample victory
The other certain doom

And history and songs of bards
Will sing of The Great War
That pitted force of dog and cat
Right there upon the floor

So. As you understand, right now,
I’m planning reconstruction.
The postwar period’s coming soon,
I don’t need the disruption

Of early morning Christian Soldiers
Pushing their own barrow
So kindly bugger off my dear –
And don’t come back tomorrow.

In Rome I saw original
Was looking all the while
I think I saw authentic too
(To get that takes a while)


But that was Rome and when in there
I did as Romans do,
And now I’m back in Nullius
Where everything is new


It isn’t really Nullius,
I know that’s just not true
But here the history’s thick and thin
With nought between the two

I’m a little tea-pot,
I might rust
But not before
You’ve turned to dust
You are full of blood, I’ve just got tea
But you won’t last as long as me