Anthony Cooney Visit @TnGTheBand on twitter.

Mr Hard faced and miserable. A smile never visible.

Chews gum like a sentence. Says he couldn’t care less.

Hips don’t lie. Steak and Kidney Pie

Mr Fidgety Man. Bright green Energy can.

Never stops talking. Never stops walking.

Not much fun. Fresh Cream bun.

Mr Quiet as a Mouse. Bought his mums house.

First in last out. Single no doubt.

Possible mole. Greggs sausage roll.

Mr Gregarious. Covers all areas

Laughs loud and hearty. Soul of the party.

Red face like a farmer. Chicken Shawarma

Mr Keen to Impress. Pass any test.

Writing so neat. Beat any spreadsheet

Size 28 hips. Cola and chips.

Mr I Don’t Believe it. I’m surrounded by idiots.

These people need sacking. Send them all packing.

It’s a good job I’m here. Golf jumpers, warm beer.

Mr Laid Back Takes up no slack

Teeth tapping pen. Speaks now and then.

Tupperware box. Tuna bun, Mr Men socks.

Mr Head Down Arse up. Manky old cup

One pair of slacks . Shows his arse crack.

Work desks a mess. Stale coffee breath.

Mr one more year. He Won’t get out of here.

Notice the tension. He’s checking his pension

Forecast no good. Statins and rice pud.

Mr I.B.D

Says he’s off for a pee.

Two hours later.

“ They’ve ran out of paper”

Scared of spreadsheets

No onions tomatoes or wheat.

It’s not like you owe me anything.

I expect nothing from one.

When I turned 50

Half a telegram would have done.

In four years time

For better or worse

I’ll send you my greeting

In a letter with verse

On the envelope

A small sticker of you

A small price to pay

For everything you don’t do.

Your silence is deafening.

No action or thought.

Liars are threatening

You hide in your fort.

Let down the drawbridge

Raise up the sword

A knight to remember

On June the Fourth .

Steve plays his 6 like a 12

Thinks he’s rock and roll

But touches too many heart strings

He’s more rock and soul

Steve plays his 6 like a 12

Thinks he’s a 12 bar king.

Crowds don’t always dance to Stevie

Sometimes they cry and sing.

Cry your eyes out, cry your heart out

He’s says it’s rock and roll.

Cry your eyes out, cry your heart out

Stevie plays rock and soul.

Steve don’t play for the money

Steve’s no, go cat go

Stevie has a heart of gold

He’s all heart and soul.

Steve plays his 6 like a 12

Thinks he’s rock and roll.

But crowds listen to the heartache

From his heart and soul.

Cry your eyes out, cry your heart out.

He says it’s rock and roll

Cry your eyes out, cry your heart out.

Steve’s playing rock and soul.

Arrived in Palma, feeling no calmer.

Travel trauma, the reps a charmer.

Stressed head, I should be dead.

Take off, was tough.

Rough flight, held on tight.

Did I mention, sat next to an engine.

Heavy landing, much more demanding.

The transfer bus, too much fuss.

Standing only, balancing poorly.

Documents then, show them again.

Belts starts moving, everyone moves in.

Reaching out, there’s no doubt.

Mines black, pick it up, put it back

Round again, all the same.

“That’s ours there”, a point and a stare.

Angry men, charge in again.

Smiling wives, calming types.

You said Gate B? I said Gate 3

Where’s the bus? pull and rush.

Grey haired driver, stronger than wire.

Puts bigger cases into smaller spaces.

Climb the stairs, ignoring the stares.

Hand luggage squeezes, coughs and sneezes

Twist the spout,warm air comes out.

Radio Spain, guitars and pain.

Transfers and stops, last of the drops.

Orange sunrise, sticky tired eyes.

High numbered doors, last of the floors

If you want, the restaurant.

El desayuno, ha terminado

No No No, No No No.

There isn’t a large enough

Cold iron bin

To hold the shit

That you’re swimming in.

There isn’t a large enough

Street sweepers broom

That could brush away

The debris in the room

There isn’t a large enough

Vacuum cleaner

That could hoover up

Your cold demeanour

There isn’t a large enough

Antiseptic wipe

That could clean the slate

Of bacterial types.

There isn’t a large enough

Wooden scrubbing brush

That could scrub away

Your poisoned touch.

When hearts and eyes

Sleep in the freezer

Detached Icy stares

No warmth or feeling.

Hide and seek

Behind red curtains

Where blind eyes stare

At other versions.

They are having a laugh

Champagne pops

Tory Party parties

That never stop

They are having a laugh

At our expense

Karaokes ok

At number ten

They are having a laugh

Queues at the bank

For food not money

Who do you thank

They are having a laugh

Life’s a bitch

Some lost forever

Some got rich

Sat looking at the fire

No output or heat

Three bars of temptation

Two frozen cold feet

No coins for the meter

No tokens or card

Flat broke and busted

A cold block of lard.

All socks and blankets

A big woolly hat

Three bars of temptation

In my frozen cold flat.

To heat or eat.

Which will I choose.

Cold baked beans or

Three bar blues.

I bumped into Judith Chalmers

While holidaying in the Bahamas.

She said that she hates, disgruntled Tory Farmers

But she does so admire, the MP Kier Starmers

She breeds Alpacas and Llamas

Wears SpongeBob Squarepants pyjamas

When she plays five aside.

With the great Carlton Lloyd Palmer.

You are mine, you filthy swine.

All poetic verse and bluster.

Never Sparkled or shook A Vac

A stranger to the duster.

Sitting on your arse, contemplating verse.

A coffee cup in hand

The tables full of coffee cups

A tasteless bitter brand.

Would you float, your Kagool coat

Do what’s right and proper.

Give me a lift on the gear shift

Of your Yellow Raleigh Chopper 

Will you write, romantic shite

You know I like that loads

Be my Willy Wordsworth

On our rocky roads.

I want to be, your mushy pea

One of your five a day

Your go to, green vegetable.

To process in anyway.

You are mine you filthy swine

We were made for each other.

Play your cards right sunshine

There will be no other.

I’ve a pair of combat trousers, but not used all the pockets.

I haven’t dodged a bullet, or ran from incoming rockets.

I’ve a camouflage jacket, which I wear to keep me warm.

Its never seen military action, in any shape or form.

I’ve army issue boots, but never marched in double time.

I’ve a Swiss army knife, but the only blood drawn was mine.

Now i’m searching in the shed, for axes forks and spades.

To protect my hometown, when unwelcome visitors invade.

The devil has shown himself as Vladimir Putin.

Ukraine will not succumb, to the murderers bombs and shooting.