Basically what it says in the title, show us your favorites. At the moment mine has to be:

Kung Fu International
by John Cooper Clarke

Outside the take-away, Saturday night
a bald adolescent, asks me out for a fight
He was no bigger than a two-penny fart
he was a deft exponent of the martial art
He gave me three warnings:
Trod on me toes, stuck his fingers in my eyes
and kicked me in the nose
A rabbit punch made me eyes explode
My head went dead, I fell in the road

I pleaded for mercy
I wriggled on the ground
he kicked me in the balls
and said something profound
Gave my face the millimetre tread
Stole me chop suey and left me for dead

Through rivers of blood and splintered bones
I crawled half a mile to the public telephone
pulled the corpse out the call box, held back the bile
and with a broken index finger, I proceeded to dial

I couldn’t get an ambulance
the phone was screwed
The receiver fell in half
it had been kung fu’d

A black belt karate cop opened up the door
demanding information about the stiff on the floor
he looked like an extra from Yang Shang Po
he said “What’s all this then
ah so, ah so, ah so.”
he wore a bamboo mask
he was gen’ned on zen
He finished his devotions and he beat me up again

Thanks to that embryonic Bruce Lee
I’m a shadow of the person that I used to be
I can’t go back to Salford
the cops have got me marked
Enter the Dragon
Exit Johnny Clarke

---

Think of him as what Ben Zephania would have been like if he was from the North of England.

The Owl and The Pussy Cat by Edward Lear- for obvious reasons, but also because my late granpa used to recite it to me since I was born.

"The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are, you are, you are,
What a beautiful Pussy you are."
Pussy said to the Owl "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing.
O let us be married, too long we have tarried;
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose, his nose, his nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling your ring?"
Said the Piggy, "I will"
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon.
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand.
They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon. "

This is a little ditty that I enjoy very much.


I found these words of wisdom,
Inscribed on a dunny wall;
Put there with a firmish hand...
"God made MAN first of all."

And underneath, in different style,
(For sharp-witted replies never cease);
"She made him as Her early draft,
Before Her final masterpiece."

Resume

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Tiger, The
by William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And What shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

This has such a powerful rythm to it. The first bit is famous, but the other stanzas are ignored even though they're just as interesting as the first. I thought I'd share the joy, as I like it a lot.

A Boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July-

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear
Pleased a simple tale to hear-

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly Shall nestle near.

In a wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream-
lingering in the golder gleam-
Life, what is it but a dream?

Jabberwocky

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.


"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!"


He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought


And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!


One, two! One, two! and through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.


"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

He chortled in his joy.


'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

Upon Westminster Bridge - William Wordsworth (forgive me for making mistakes, I'm typing it from memory)

Earth has not anything to show more fair,
Dull must he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in it's majesty.
This city now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ship, towers, domes theatres and temples lie
Open unto the fields and to the sky.
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air,
Never did sun more beautifully steep,
In his first splendour, valley rock or hill,
Ne'er saw I, never felt a calm so deep,
The river glideth at her own free will.
Dear God! The very houses are asleep
And all that mighty heart is lying still.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm schizophrenic
And I am too

Fart
By Psych Otic
I woke up one morning singing a tune
I bent over a let a small toot.
I turned around to look at bear ground,
'cuz thats all that was there,
'cept for in my underwear.

I like it 'cuz I wrote it!