O’Flynn, the great Irish traveller
who ought to be on
the Graham Norton show with
a trumpet stuck right up
his jaxy where the sun
don’t shine nore does the
moon except on a rare
stake cooked in a e-coli
converted bus near swindon which
is frequented by Foden drivers
looking for lezzies and gays
oh dear not nice especially
when it`s a dark night
and with there very little
chance of being caught with
their strides on they ran
faster than the mad gamekeeper
chasing the poacher who shot
his lot and then wished
he’d shot a pheasant instead