He’s on it
He’s on it like water on
sinking ships
Like a hand on the ball nicked
into the slips
Like a kiss on Angelina
Jolie’s lips
He’s on it like a seagull
on a bag of chips
He’s on it like a rat
climbing up a drain pipe
Like a stray dog pouncing
on a bag of tripe
Like mould on fruit
that’s gone overripe
Like Oswald on Kennedy,
waiting to snipe
Like an angry driver with
an urge to yell
Like a convict on a bunk
in a prison cell
Quasimodo on the rope of the
cathedral bell
He’s on it like an actor
on a West end stage
Like an Eastern European
on the minimum wage
Like a sex scanda on The Sun’s front page
Jimmy Saville’s dirty
hands on the underage
He’s on it like a rash
all over your skin
He’s on it like a fox on
a rubbish bin
Like an old alcoholic on
a bottle of gin
Like an unsuspecting arse
on a drawing pin
He’s on it like a
pisshead on a donor kebab
He’s on it like a finger
on a dried up scab
Like a hand on a Rolex at
a smash and grab
Like a night clubber
running for a taxi cab
He’s on it like a
cokehead on a big white line
Keith Floyd on a bottle
of French red wine
Like Diana on the trail
of another landmine
Like a picnic on the
beach when the weather’s fine
He’s on it like a kitten
on a ball of string
Like a wedding guest on a
chicken wing
Like a wannabe singer who
really can’t sing
He’s on the karaoke
singing everything
Like an England captain on
his best friend’s wife
Like a psycho in a fight
with a carving knife
Like a man on appeal in solitary strife
On suicide watch sent
down for life
Like a fired torpedo on
an enemy fleet
Like a new-born baby on a
mother’s teat
Like a man with diarrhoea
on a toilet seat
He’s on it like a lion on
a piece of meat
He’s on it like a spy on
a document
That’s marked “Top
secret” by the government
Like Guy Fawkes
underneath Parliament
With a highly explosive
implement
He’s on it like a gossip
on a juicy tale
Like a seventy’s pop star
on a young female
Like a bird in the garden
on bread gone stale
Like a member of CAMRA on
a pint of real ale
Like The Terra Nova on a
frozen shore
Like Captain Scott on a
mission to explore
Like a poet sitting down on
a muddy floor
Writing accounts of the
First World War
Like a thirsty man on a
beer in the fridge
Like Kingdom Brunel on
designing a bridge
Like a broker on a deal
with Etheridge
Like Hillary climbing up
a mountain ridge
He’s on it like a multi
millionaire’s son
At the Bullingdon club
with his flies undone
Burning a fifty pound
note for fun
Then shagging a pig in front
of everyone
He’s on it like a bard
writing a sonnet
He’s on it like bird shit
on a shiny bonnet
Like an addict needing
more he falls upon it
Like a junkie on a score
I'm on this one. Love it Barry. Really good words.
ReplyDeleteCheers mate.
ReplyDelete