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CLARKIES The
bog
Orange paint with dark grey slate The
decorations not too great Condensation
running down Often
makes the public frown
The
plug-hole there often blocks So
water covers shoes and socks Is
it water, who can tell? You
will have to please yoursel' An
old man went in the other night To
find the place without a light After
twenty minutes was a shout "Someone
come and let me out" Then
of course there is the smell On
your eyes that will tell Cause
when you walk into the stink The
fumes in there sure make you blink Here
and now I’ll declare Was
me that broke the glass in there While
I was trying to make it fresher On
the window I put pressure You’ll
never wash your hands in there There
aint no basin anywhere And
if body-weight you must taper Don’t
go there, there is no paper
All
you people listen to me Cause
if you really need to pee You’ve
my word and my bond You’re
better at the CURLING POND ************* addendum by Exile Clarky’s sanitation has got better Ceramic tiles stopped the walls getting wetter For when drunken men had a piss The trough in front they might not miss But if it splashed on the wall behind They should have reproached themselves, but please
be kind Their lack of vision and co-ordination Was brought about by intoxication For drunken men, since days of yore Have pissed all over the toilet floor A fault not found with Stanley men Who zipped their flies and said….Amen | ||
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