A Poetic Loner

Great show yesterday kid.
You and Mr Coyle are indeed the Torville and Dean of the radio.
Tommy my cat hurled a hand grenade into his bed to kill the fleas and said,
"I stood all alone on the cliff-top
The night the Majestic went down
Wearing a gansy in yellow
And trousers, conspicuously-brown."
"Send that to Gerry!" I yelled. "It's much better than some of the rubbish he reads out."
Tommy looked out the window and said,
"I am a poetic loner, a vagabond rhymer. I have no wish for fame or success. I leave that to the Seamus Heaneys of the world."
"Give us another one Tommy!" I cried.
"Go on, go on Tommy,give us another auld poem."
Tommy put one foot up on the coal bucket, looked up at the ceiling and roared out like a town crier,
"They never did find her knickers
Though they searched from the dusk 'till the dawn.
It was plain that her knickers were purloined
By the red-headed stranger called, John."
"GET OUT!" I yelled. "GET OUT! and take your auld filthy poems with you, you vile, perverted,wee pussy!"
With Tommy out of the house I decided to write a wee poem myself.It couldn't be that hard. I screwed my face up like Seamus Heaney and wrote the following doggerel.
"He was old, he was frail and decrepit
He was Bosco who came from the Falls.
In a shrill voice he cried out, "Cajhones!"
Which I suppose is much better than, ba.....
NO! I will not go down the filthy, slimy, poetic path.
I washed out my mouth with Lifebuoy soap and sat down to read the bible.
"In the beginning was the word.
No men or woman or wee, wee bird
Then Eve went out some apples to gather
And that was the start of, how's your father?"
Filled with the holy spirit, I rolled round the floor, yelping like a dog. The spirit was in me.
What I needed now was rattle snakes. Lethal, poisonous rattle snakes writhing over my naked body.
PRAISE THE LORD!