Ol’ Lily Fairweather

(Written for Daily Prompt)

Ol’ Lily Fairweather sat in a wheelchair

In her favourite plaid skirt and done up hair

Her ninety-fifth birthday was very pompous

A barbeque party, though she couldn’t stand the ruckus.

She quickly looked around and saw no one in sight,

Slowly and steadily she began to tilt to her right

A helpful nephew quickly propped her straight

Said, “You ought to be in bed, it’s quiet late.”

She sighed and looked again, no one was around

She began to lean to the left without the slightest sound

“Grandma are you sleepy?” asked her pretty daughter

“Or are you feeling unwell, should we call the doctor?”

Lily brushed her off and was left all alone

She began to bend forward with a slight moan

A pair of hands quickly pulled her back at once

Her son quipped, “You’ve not visited the doctor in three-four months!”

The family thought the old lady was losing her balance

Began fussing around her, to talk she was not given a chance

In the end ol’ Lily Fairweather could take it no more

“How do I fart if I don’t move, you morons?” she loudly swore.

Spaz & All That Jazz

Spaz & All That JazzThere was a 7 headed cat whose name was Spaz,

He walked with style and danced the jazz.

On the banks of the Coln lay the quaint Bilbury

Where the ol’ cat lived without a world of worry.


Spic n’ span, bow tied and suited

Black leather gloved, shiny cowboy booted.

He played music country plucking the banjo

Leaving ‘em blushing dames asking on for more.


Was the talk-o’-town, walking with 7 heads held high

Smooth talker to the core, if he ever was nigh.

Sauntered down his alley and up the shady shack

O’er the rusted farm fence and all the way back.


‘Nuf of the lil town’, he thought one day

‘Gotta swing my magic to the lands far away’.


‘Miami! Cherookee! Tennessee’, hollered the drunk moose at the bar

His checkered sleeve splish splashing a whisky glass from afar.

‘Well those are harmless names’, thought Spaz with a grin

‘I could shake a sleepy town awake with all my whacky din.’


So off to Tennessee he set on a fine summer morn

Leavin’ his friends behind to dance the Hillbilly town.

Off the battered loco he got down with 7 heads held high

Unaware of the sniggers and the occasionally audible sigh.


‘Barkin’ dawgs izzat 7 heads’, exclaimed the drunked porter

‘Not ever have ah seen sumpin’ like this’, squealed the lil’ pigtailed runner.

The towners nudged and gossiped, the young’uns had their fun

As Ol’ Spazzie walked around forlon in the hotness of the sun.


The moustached men thought him a freak if there was one born

Huddled together o’er their beers right across the barn.

The women folk appalled him with their style so bold

Makin’ the fair dainty dames back home look old.


Cat sauntered to the bar and ordered his favourite Jäger

‘It’s a tuppence per head’, said the barman with a swagger.


“I’m a singer and play the banjo live”, Cat then belched

Got to the stage as drunk as a blind hamster quenched.

Tripped on a wire and almost fell face down

Shaking his head clear to the chants of “Hey kitty, mind the flowy gown”.


A nervous Spaz auditioned for a song

But each of his 7 heads got it all wrong.

Each sang a different tune and got the notes haywire

Fighting to mouth the microphone and sing even louder.


‘That’s the awfullest thing ah ever heard’, cried the barman

‘This howling like a banshee aint that pretty’, nonchalanted the serving man.

Out was kicked Cat and told never to give a lookie back

Found a job in a café and lived on a sack.


But all wasn’t smooth ‘cuz no kitchener was he

He burnt and bruised, lost in the gastronomic melee.


Unfortunate was the day when he was mopping the floor dry

He slipped over a large blob of oil, oh my my my!

His sleeve struck down the burner alight

The water tap rushed to him to reduce his plight.


By then the curtains by the sink had caught on the fire

And danced to a musicless sound, ready for the pyre.

Spaz dunked and doused the flames till all were out

Finally looked at the black mess that was about.


‘Nuf of this big town’, he thought that day

As the boss kicked him around and away.

He missed the adoring listeners and the free flowing wine

Reminiscing the banjo playing in the gay sunshine.


He jumped the next loco and headed back where he belonged

His heart full of joy as his lips continuously songed.

Ran down his alley and sprinted to the shack so cosy

This is where he was meant to be, where life was so rosy.