Thought some of you might like this:
I remember the ol' Tippler toilets,
but the skill I once 'ad is now gone.
Finely balanced it were like a seesaw,
that flicked off the bits yer dropped on.
Judgin' it right were an art form,
t' know when t' squeeze in yer cheeks.
An' jus' 'ow to 'it it dead centre,
adjustin' yer bum on the seat.
The pride that I felt when I'd finished,
if it were clean as a Cooper's new keg.
An' the trouble it caused me t' free it,
if I'd 'appened t' drop a chair leg!
Now the toilets t'day are dead borin',
yer don't 'ave t' use 'alf yer brain.
Cos they all float about jus' like goldfish,
'til yer flush all the lot down the drain.
So, now that me skills are redundant,
I've found summat else I can do.
I take up me fags an' the paper,
some biccys an' a freshly made brew.
(Copyright S. Brown)
More of Stan's stuff at:
Sensa Yuma