This weeks collection from the COYSDC lyricists

Wasted talent?
By The COYSDC Poets
June 18 2002

This week West Midlands Saint, the Godfather of COYSDC poetry, has been joined by fellow lyricists Maverick, Howlin, Binary Bob, Saint Ian and Saint Marlowe. Anyone else feeling poetical should post your efforts on the message board. All contributions gratefully received!

Howlin
If those suits are getting you down
Wear a smile not a frown
If those prawns are causing you pain
Shrug it off and smile again
But if those crazy old farts persist
Do what I do, go and get p*ssed !

Binary Bob
WMS - to assist with your chillin'
May I recommend some distillin'
Or acquire from those shops
Tinned and fermented hops
But don't drink and eat penicillin.

I've discovered an absence of cheer
To be caused by a shortage of beer
So please don't be forlorn
Over a silly old prawn
Take heart, the new season draws near.

West Midlands Saint
Why thanks my friend, Binary Bob
And I'm sorry for throwing a cob (West Midlands expression for wobbly)
Thanks for the advice
Some black wine would be nice
Yes, Guinness should just do the job.

I'll endeavour to keep hanging loose (or is it lose Chris?)
With the RFU I'll call a truce.
But I won't show such charm
If they do Jimmies harm.
I'll string the farts up with a noose.

West Midlands Saint
Your poetical talents by far,
Exceed those of mine - your a star,
The speed of your rhyme,
In such a short time,
Confirms we are not of a par.

West Midlands Saint
Though the place was a little bit grotty
And their single word song drove us potty
The better team won
It was fun in the sun
With some truly exceptional totty.

West Midlands Saint
What can I do now, every Saturday
A drink lots of Guinness, eat pies and get fatter day.
Meet with my mates from the Gardens and chatterday.
Then watch the Jimmies run out and Gershplatter day.

Now, when I sulk it's a wife "What's the matter day?"
Oh bugger, no rugger till August.

West Midlands Saint
Oh dear, what dreadful news today
Our Budgie's broke its wing
It can't go to the USA
Hooray the Jimmies sing!

Saint Ian
So now its the end of the season
Our posts lack sense, wit and reason
Even WestMidsSaint
With words he doth paint
Is talking about gardening.....TREASON!

West Midlands Saint
The news that our good old friend Andy
Has found a new club is just dandy.
'Cos his signing for Neath
Made us chuffed to the teeth
With his skills, for the Welsh, he'll be handy!

West Midlands Saint
Watching soccer and having a tipple
Thoughts wandered to next season's triple
But there's one thing we lack
That's pace at the back.
PROBLEM SOLVED - get ORIOL RIPOL.

Saint Ian
We know him as W-M-S,
A poet and scholar o yes,
He is now a real hero
With posts of three zero zero
A thousand by August, I'd guess!

Saint Marlowe
Will it be Biarritz or Toulouse?
They're finding it hard to choose
But the SAINTS dont care
'bout the who or the where
Some French team is going "Toulous"

Maverick
Oh, Marlowe, please don't be so blue
Indeed, Alan's betrothed to his Ru
The literary barometa
That's iambic petameter
Includes even me and, of course, you

West Midlands Saint
So it's off to Biarritz and the Basques
Never the easiest tasks
And no-one needs glasses
For kilted blokes arses
They're from Cardiff if anyone asks.

But those Ulstermen hail from Belfast
On my holiday list p'raps the last.
But we're beggars not choosers
They'll still have good boozers
And the South of France - Joy unsurpassed!


West Midlands Saint
Now come on chaps we have been blessed
And Wayne keeps his cards near his chest.
Though the medicine's hard
And some may get scarred
We know he will make us the best.

Some good lads are leaving it's true
But when Smudger joined us we knew.
That some of the squad
Would not get the nod
Next season we're stuffing the Pooh.


Advance Nuthamtun Fair!