A Poem for Val O'Donovan (10)

We all know that life starts at forty
So Val, don’t be grumpy and snorty!
Your birthday again?
Why, you just turned TEN!
L Lovett said “fifty” (he’s NAUGHTY!)


By Mike Batt at the request of Lenny Lovett
14 Feb 2012

Punk Runs Of With My Mate's Wife (Ages ago)

A bloke whose first name I've forgotten,
Was punk singer "Somebody" Rotten.
He ran off (true life!)
With my buddy’s wife
Can’t blame him, for she was a hot ‘un!

Because he was one of the Pistols
You didn't need balls made of crystals
To see he'd a stash
And plenty of cash,
And she had the arse and the bristols!


Scandal: Many a true word is spoken in jest!

Emily – You’re Thirty-two!

Wow, - when I was thirty, she
Had just been Christened “Emily”
And “Christened” was the way she stayed
Not like myself, (though Christened, strayed).
Chocolate-eating but not fat
Why? She’s faster than her cat,
Running in the marathon
People say “What are you on?”
Steroids, steak or other means?
She says, “I’m on runner beans!”
And , own up anybody who
Knows about that cool tattoo!
All her friendships go beyond
“She’s OK” or “I’m quite fond”
Now has come the time to say
On this very special day,
I’m congratulating you;
Emily –you’re THIRTY-TWO!

Happy Birthday.!

(Sorry it wasn’t delivered by a Stripper-Vicar or Fun-Nun).

All the best


Mike

Poem at Katie Melua's 21st (Just rediscovered)

Three Years Ago

Three years ago, when first we met
How could we both have known? - and yet
There was a spark of certainty
That what would be, would come to be.
I know you knew it – I did too,
And though they say belief in you
Is what possessed me to be strong,
I know that really, all along,
The thing that bred such certainty,
Was, strangely, your belief in me.
And in these times of boom and bust,
I thank you, Katie for your trust.
Two artists, with a common aim,
For truth and music over fame,
Yet learning, as we did, we know
Success can only help you grow
And choose your targets better still,
Your aims much easier to fulfil,
And struggle though we did, I say
I’m glad we met, that fateful day.

Mike Batt, September, 2005

Poem for my son's 21st (Written in haste)

There was a bloke called Luke M Batt
Whose father was an utter twat;
Who woke one day and loudly cursed
“Oh, Damn! I’ve missed Luke’s twenty-first!
Well not exactly missed the day
But bought NO CARD with which to say
‘Hey, Luke, I hope you’ll have a blast
Before this happy day has passed”.
And so his dad dashed off a rhyme
Knowing he still had some time
Upon his words to ruminate-
As Luke would often get up late.
Hence these syllables inept,
Written as his son still slept.
Twat or not, his dad was clear,
“Have another wicked year!
And when you’ve kids of twenty-one
Do not do what I have done!
Buy a card, or to be sure,
Write your verse the night BEFORE!”