Want humorous lyrics or poetry? F Words acts as agent to a prolific but lazy poet and folk-song writer who has a huge and previously unpublished catalogue of original comic songs about anything from horsemeat burgers to snogging, from the pains of being elderly to the irritations of going shopping. If the world can handle another Pam Ayres, this guy is it!  Give us a subject and if our “Pam” hasn’t already written something on the subject, we’ll prod him with a sharp stick and make him do so! Fees negotiable depending on whether you’re an individual wanting something for a birthday party, a small business needing humorous words for an event or a corporation wanting something truly original for an ad campaign.

Below are two of the poems written by “Pam”: I’ll call him Sam, as he’s a bloke. Sam is not his real name but he wishes to remain anonymous, being a grumpy old man who doesn’t want to get his hands dirty with the commercial side of things. We represent him on an agency basis, until such time as he starts to make proper money and can cold-heartedly dispense with our services.

“Sam” can write comedy or pathos on any subject and can, if wished, sing it to the accompaniment of his battered old guitar or mandolin.

We can license you to use Sam’s existing work or he can write customised original material to a brief. Fees can be negotiated. It goes without saying that the samples below are copyright.

All I Need Is Time

As I was passing by the home

The local senior citizens home

I couldn’t help but overhear

The plaintive song of one old dear

The bathroom window, just a crack

Was open as she dried her back

And as an aide-memoir she sang

This touching little verse

First I dry the bingo wings

Then there’s lots of other things

Which have travelled southwards since

I was in my prime

My mind is clear but its perverse

The bodywork is getting worse

I don’t need to see the nurse

All I need is time

Moved by this lament I tried

To push the window open wide

And once I’d got my head inside

Could offer counsel true

I know you don’t know where I’m from

But I am not a Peeping Tom,

I said, I’m here to offer

Words of comfort now to you

At first she gave a little start,

Wrapped a towel around her heart,

Seemed hot and flushed though I could see

Her buttocks turning blue

I told her, age is just a number

Get out soon and learn the Rumba

Or go and grow cucumbers as a volunteer at Kew

Alas though, I was fated

To be unappreciated

My efforts to console her

Were not received too well

The matron called the Law and then

A car drew up with burly men

Who took me to the local nick

And threw me in this cell

On Monday morning, 10 o’clock

I’ll be standing in the dock

To try and tell the magistrates

That I did nothing wrong

They’ll soften when they hear my tale

I’ll make my plea – but should it fail,

I’ll recount verbatim

That poor old lady’s song

First I dry the bingo wings

Then there’s lots of other things

Which have travelled southwards since

I was in my prime

My mind is clear but it’s perverse

The bodywork is getting worse

I don’t need to see the nurse

All I need is time

Grumpy Old Man

I’m a pensioner now

But me flat, it caught fire

And there I was out on the street

Down came the council

They said “Never mind”

And I do seem to fall on me feet

For they said would I like a place in the’ome

Where everyone goes when they’re old

Three meals a day, all the cocoa you want

And the heating comes on when it’s cold

I said I dunno, He said you dunno

You’ll find that it’s all for the best

I said I feel young, ‘E said never mind that

You’ll grow old when you’re in with the rest

I said oh all right then, I’ll go – ‘e said when?

I said when, ‘e said yes, I said now

‘E said right away? I said yes please, today

‘E said alright – I’ll do it somehow

So ‘e got me a place in this very nice ‘ome

Where old ladies and gents go to rest,

Where they do all yer washin’ and cook all yer meals

And yer always dressed up in your best

But after a while I began to get bored

And I thought that I’d like some romance

When all’s said and done, there’s a bit more to life

Than just ‘avin clean vest and pants

So I wandered off into the lounge where I’d seen

Some ladies all watchin’ T.V.

I fancied the one with the generous hips

And the ankle socks up to the knee

I said “Any chance?” She said “What?”

I said, “chance”, she said “dance?”

I said “No”, she said “Right”

She said “Dancing? – With men?”

I said “Yes, alright then.

I’ll pick you up later tonight.”

So I ‘ung around until I ran into

A wandering member of staff

“Anywhere local” said I “I could take

A girl for a drink and a laugh?”

‘E said “Yes, there’s a pub”, I said “Pub?”

‘E said “Yes, it’s just to the right of the park”

I said “Good, I’ll take Mabel”

He said “No you won’t

She never goes out after dark.”

I said “What about Phyllis?”

‘E said “No, don’t take Phyllis,

Phyllis is out of ‘er tree.”

I said “Oh alright then,

It’ll’ave  to be Gwen.”

‘E said “No – Gwen is going with me.”

So I’m getting’ fed up

With this ‘ome that I’m in

Where we never do nothin’ but sit

The dinner-gong gives me an ‘eadache, I said

Could they keep the noise down – just a bit!

Noise down a bit? – Yes, noise down a bit!

I’ve put up with it all that I can

They said “no you ‘aven’t” I said “Yes I ‘ave”

They said “You’re a grumpy old man!”

So I called out the young man

Who put me in ‘ere

And I told ‘im I’d rather be there

He said “there?” I said “Yeah –

A flat in the square

I’ll settle the rent for a year

‘E said “I dunno”

I said “No? is that No?”

‘E said “No, I would never say that

But why would you want to move outta the warm

And into a draughty old flat?”

I said “Oh it’s chronic,

They all need a tonic,

The women are all a dead loss

And the dinner-gong there

Was drivin’ me spare

Until I ‘ad words with the boss.”

He said “Well I’ll see”

I said “Glory be!

I thought that I’d fell on my face.”

He says “Change yer mind, and I’m goin’ on leave

But go on, I’ll give you a place.”

So it’s goodbye to Sunnybank Rest ‘ome

And ‘allo to the Sainsbury’s queue

It’s up in the mornin’ and doin’ me washin’

Like all us old bachelors do

It’s darnin’ me socks by the light of the fire

And dreamin’ of better times past

And pleasin’ yerself ’til the day you expire

It’s ‘eaven – It’s freedom at last!

 

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