Wedding Begging Poem

I got married to my wonderful wife nearly five years ago. We went to loads of wedding fairs, saw lots of wonderful things, and picked each other up off the floor when we found out how expensive everything was. So, we looked at little ways to cut costs, and one of them involved printing our own invites (very tasteful, laser printed, curly fonts, expensive paper, coloured ribbons, wax seal... very sophisticated). We included a fun little poem indicating our preference for cold hard cash instead of gifts, which is an idea we'd nicked from somewhere. I'm sure 75% of the below is repurposed from other sources, but I can't quite remember where those bits end and my bits start, so here is our version incase someone else wants to do the same.

We do not have a gift list,
we’ve got our pots and pans.
Our life is pretty sorted.
We’ve inked out all our plans!

We thank you for your presence,
to celebrate our day.
Your love is all we really need,
to send us on our way.

But if the mood should take you,
and you feel a little flash,
put on a cheque "C. Thomas"
we'd love a gift of cash!

The honeymoon's expensive.
The three kids bleed us dry!
Please don't be too offended, that
we gave this verse a try!

The Shite Before Christmas

Twas the shite before Christmas, when outside was froze,
not an inch wasn't covered, not even my nose.
My wellies were sloshing, with warm runny gunk,
and fast pace of walking, had coated my junk.

The fart I expected, arrived way too fast,
and brought with it solids, in one liquid blast.
The stench was amazing, and the crisp morning air,
was putrid with wretching, as I dashed home with care.

My eyes were both streaming, as I got to my door,
my backside was stinging, I could take it no more!
So learn from this lesson, and please tell a friend,
don't reheat old curry from before last weekend!

(by Chris Thomas - 15 Dec 2016)

What I want is a proper hookey copy

(To be sung to the tune of "What I want is a proper cup o' coffee")

A fat man sat, in a popcorn covered seat, in a cinema in downtown Barking,
The audience, were noisy, and the kids,
We're running, up and down, and talking,
Ah curse ya, curse ya, curse ya, it's the worst theatre I've been caught in!

'Cause,
All I want is a proper hooky copy,
Made by a pirate movie copier,
I did download a lot,
'Cause I want a cheap ass copy, and don't want to pay a jot!
Pirate Bay's blocked!
Links sites are cocked!
They're no use to me!
If I can't have a proper hooky copy from a pirate movie copier, I'll buy the DVD!

In days of old when pirates were bold, they would sneak a camera in, to the cinema,
The focus was off, you'd hear other patrons cough, and they'd wander in front of the camera,
They were the worst movie copies! I felt anger!

Chorus
 
Then the DRM was cracked, it was a breeze, to, churn out copies by the dozen,
And the blank disk prices tumbled to a point, you would make free copies for your cousin!
I just hope there's no repercussion!

Chorus

(a three verse version of the lyrics by Chris Thomas - 31 August 2012)

Here's a version of the proper lyrics featuring the marvelous Bernard Cribbins... 

Toilet ghost

The little roll bounced to the floor,
and from the stall, rolled 'neath the door.
A desperate cry was heard to shout,
"Would some kind soul, please help me out!

My bottom's dirty, I need to wipe,
if I leave now, I'll stink all night!"
With much relief, the roll returned,
was used, replaced, and lesson learned.

He left red faced, emerging slow,
wishing no one would have to know.
He turned to thank the silent friend,
but the room was empty from end to end.

The door was shut. No one was there.
A sudden chill hung in the air.
He didn't stop to look around,
and the ghostly help, was never found.

Should you be stuck with a similar plight,
in a similar place, on a similar night,
do not be scared, don't scream or shout,
the bog roll ghost might help you out.

(by Chris Thomas - 14 November 2014)

My Beard

I had a beard. Have you hear'd?
I thought it weird, when people jeered.
Their anger neared... my journey veered!
But when I peered, they hadn't leered,
they merely cheered (from seating, tiered).
My worry cleared! Should not have feared.
Then up I geared and face was sheared.
I miss my weird, old hairy beard.

(by Chris Thomas - 27 July 2010)

The computer's prayer

Our server,
which art in Windows.
Reboot be thy name.
Thy bluescreen comes, thy reset be done,
right now, and whenever you feel like it.
Give us this day, a bloody break,
and forgive us our piracy,
as we forgive those who spam viagra against us,
and lead us not into a virus,
but deliver us from Microsoft.
For thine is the hard disk,
the network and the mouse clicks,
forever and ever,
general protection fault.

(a version of "The Lord's Prayer" by Chris Thomas - circa 2003)