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STOP IT ! !

Proper Job

By Proper Job
in General Boating

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RLWP Veteran II

RLWP

Posted
Posted (edited)
D'ye ken Jim Pubes with his splod so bright,

As he traddles his nadger in the bright moonlight?

He wurdles his posset all through the night,

But he can't turn it off in the morning.

 

Oh the sound of his groat threw me from my bed,

As he blew up his mooly fit to waken the dead,

Oh the noise of his grunge nearly blew off me head,

And removed all the paint from the awning.

 

D'ye ken Jim Pubes? Now his splod's turned white,

And his nadger's been struck with an awful blight,

And he can't find his posset without a light,

And he can't turn it on in the morning.

 

Oh his poor old groat, it has sprung a leak,

And the sound of his mooly's reduced to a squeak:

Though he blows and he blows till he's blue in the eek,

We'll no more hear him grunge in the mor-or-or-orning.

 

Richard

Edited by RLWP
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Ange Veteran

Ange

Posted
Posted

Ange,Albion,owen,lb3,bizzard,Rod a mod from Tod,wanted,NB Alnwick,simon&jan,LazWoodbine,Gordon Chesterman,Tuscan,howardang,Nb Unity

 

Pointless really?

 

I'm having a bit of fun with some friends and ignoring the pointless willy waving. Please don't include me in your self vindication.

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I'm having a bit of fun with some friends and ignoring the pointless willy waving. Please don't include me in your self vindication.

 

So am I .. fun here isn't it sometimes...

 

21 User(s) are reading this topic

17 members, 2 guests, 2 anonymous users

 

wanted,Monkey 1,RLWP,mayfly,wrigglefingers,Midnight Rider,Dyad,Keeping Up,LazWoodbine,Ange,Rebotco,Tuscan,simon&jan,davidg,the_wheels,Rod a mod from Tod,spiritofalbion

Edited by MJG
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RLWP Veteran II

RLWP

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Posted

Bloody hell. And my printer's run out of ink.

 

Not familiar with the works of the great Rambling Syd Rumpo then?

 

To the tune Clementine:

 

Joe, he was a young cordwangler,

Munging greebles he did go,

And he loved a bogler's daughter

By the name of Chiswick Flo.

 

Vain she was and like a grusset

Though her gander parts were fine,

But she sneered at his cordwangle

As it hung upon the line.

 

So he stole a woggler's mooly

For to make a wedding ring,

But the Bow Street Runners caught him

And the judge said "He will swing."

 

Oh, they hung him by the postern,

Nailed his mooly to the fence

For to warn all young cordwanglers

That it was a grave offence.

 

There's a moral to this story,

Though your cordwangle be poor,

Keep your hands off other's moolies,

For it is against the law.

 

Richard

 

If it's Richard, it'll be the Pint That Durst Not Speak It's Name

 

Goodness me, how did you know?

 

Richard

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Guest wanted

Guest wanted

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Posted

Ouch, you polish your splodcobblers? Do you wax them first?

 

Two brushes and a chamois leather does it for me. Wax on wax off

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Ange Veteran

Ange

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Not familiar with the works of the great Rambling Syd Rumpo then?

 

To the tune Clementine:

 

Richard

 

Dave sez thank you very much - I just sang that to him! (I may be good with numbers but I'll never win a singing contest!)

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Cant believe am reading this , a thread about not kicking off , kicking off ! Something about a flat head wasnt it ????

 

Mary Whitehouse used to complain about the amount of filth there used to be on TV - it seems she didn't know where the off button was...

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RLWP Veteran II

RLWP

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In which case:

 

I'll sing you one oh,

Green grow my nadgers oh!

What is your one-oh?

 

One's the grunge upon my splod

Masking my cordwangle.

 

I'll sing you two-oh!

Green grow my nadgers oh.

What is your two-oh?

 

Two are my looming thrums -

See how they jangle,

One's the grunge upon my splod

Masking my cordwangle.

 

I'll sing you three-oh!

Green grow my nadgers oh.

What is your three-oh?

 

Three are the times

I've lunged my groats,

Two are my looming thrums -

See how they jangle,

One's the grunge upon my splod

Masking my cordwangle.

 

I'll sing you four-oh!

Green grow my nadgers oh.

What are your four-oh?

 

Four for my whirdlers bent - oh,

Three are the times I've lunged my groats,

Two are my looming thrums -

See how they jangle,

One's the grunge upon my splod

Masking my cordwangle.

 

I'll sing you five-oh!

Green grow my nadgers oh.

What are your five-oh?

 

Five are the wogglers

Up my spong,

Four for my whirdlers bent - oh,

Three are the times

I've lunged my groats,

Two are my looming thrums -

See how they jangle

One's the grunge upon my splod -

It's ruined my cordwangle!

 

Richard

Edited by RLWP
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