Recently while going through my live-in
maid's room I discovered a collection of poetry by the much under
appreciated Irish poet Jack Dingleberry. A collection which I had
never seen before, called "Jack Dingleberry: The Dog's
Bark". I am a great fan of Mr Dingleberry's work so I sat down to
read it, knowing that I had at least half an hour before Conchita would manage
to unscrew the hinges on the basement door.
These poems moved me greatly and I almost didn't fire Conchita when she
eventually did burst in on me in my state of undress.
I hope you find these poems as powerful as I did on Ketamene. Yours truly, Lord Henry Crapwizard.
Short Article
Walking down O’Connell Street,
Cleary’s clock,
Tick tock,
A young girl passes in her tight top,
Into Eason’s and grab the Daily Mirror,
Porn underneath,
I think an old woman saw me.
Waste of Time
Toilet town,
Pants down,
Hurry up now Morse is on,
Sit there waiting,
I’d love a
Ah the seats wet,
Feckin’ kids,
I wish I was dead.
Suicide Attempt
Take the sleeping pills 1 to 13,
Lay back on the bed,
I need to take a piss,
Puke on my face,
Bad taste,
A cry for help,
Pump my stomach.
Killing Time
A
cup of tea,
By the gas
fire,
The Late
Late,
With our
hands in hand,
My wife,
Enjoys the
peace and quite,
Leave her
snoozing,
Go out and
find a prostitute.
Homework
A
maths problem,
X, Y, Z,
spells trouble to me,
I was never
good at this,
Give me
Geography any day,
But I can’t
let down that sweet little face,
Or her pimp
will kill me.
Tender
Shh,
Don’t cry,
You’re
putting me off.
Cornershop
Man
O Cornershop Man,
Twenty
Benson & Hedges please.
The Truth of Comedy
Nothing,
Everything,
Yaks on
fire,
Explaining
nothing,
Explaining
everything,
Sleep with
his daughter.
Life
Potatoes,
Beans,
Sprouts and
carrots,
A lamb chop
or two,
Pasta,
Biscuits,
Cigs, Cans,
Dairylee
Lunchables for the kids,
Worthers
Originals for the wife,
Yoghurts,
Cheese,
This is a
shopping list.
The Fox
Down in the woods the fox did run,
He didn’t
have a worry to tell,
Everyone
knew he was swift and sly,
He had
glossy coat and bushy tail,
And all the
birds they did coo,
To watch
that fox fly by,
Oh that
handsome rascal mister fox,
He was their
favourite boy,
“From Morn
till Dusk I’ll scamper and play,
But never
with the same bird twice,”
Said he,
“It’s a burrow I do not need,
And to have
a litter, I think, is a vice,”
But, alas,
one night,
Pissed out
of his head,
He kissed
the owl,
And took
her to bed,
She got
pregnant, on purpose,
So he had
to marry her even though he never loved her,
And she
just hoots away all day, never shuts up,
God that
woman, he can feel the bile rising every time she undresses to go to bed.
Compiled by
Mark Cantan and Davy Banks