Copyright © 2014 Mab Jones
‘Queen Mab’ cover art by Norris Nuvo
The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, De...
Revolution
In Revolution girls revolve
Like well-cooked meat on spits
Inebriation soon dissolves
Their knickers and their ...
Cardiff Song
He was from Ely and ‘er from Pontcanna
She lived wiv ‘er mum, and him wiv his nanna
Nowhere tuh go so they we...
She liked a Chinese, bur he liked a curry
She said less get married, he said woss the ‘urry
She patted ‘er guts, I’m expec...
Oh, I Wish I’d Looked After Me Tits
(after Pam Ayres)
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me tits,
Those two great front wobbly bi...
Oh I slung cloth around ‘em alright,
But I chose things that didn’t fit right,
The lace scraps I bought,
Didn’t give much ...
Poor Queen by Mab Jones SAMPLE
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Poor Queen by Mab Jones SAMPLE

Post-modern, political, and bawdy, Poor Queen is packed with dark humour. Mab Jones is a popular performer across the UK, gracing the stage of pub, club, theatre and festival tent. She projects the frustrations of ordinary people and everyday life in a straight talking rhythmic blast of comic poetry.
Published on: Mar 4, 2016
Published in: Entertainment & Humor      
Source: www.slideshare.net


Transcripts - Poor Queen by Mab Jones SAMPLE

  • 1. Copyright © 2014 Mab Jones ‘Queen Mab’ cover art by Norris Nuvo The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of Burning Eye Books, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. This edition published by Burning Eye Books 2014 www.burningeye.co.uk @burningeye Burning Eye Books 15 West Hill, Portishead, BS20 6LG ISBN 978 1 90913 641 0
  • 2. Revolution In Revolution girls revolve Like well-cooked meat on spits Inebriation soon dissolves Their knickers and their wits Men devolve and make resolve Based on the size of tits In Revolution problem solved As twits with tits and gits with zits Become involved At least for one night only Viva la Revolution! 11
  • 3. Cardiff Song He was from Ely and ‘er from Pontcanna She lived wiv ‘er mum, and him wiv his nanna Nowhere tuh go so they went to the park The grass was so green and he had a full bag Skin up, block up, feel up, knock up But she was firteen so he went to the lock up I likes you like I dunno why Yuh face aint tha’ good Bu’ the rest is urrigh’ She wore ‘er skirts right up tuh yur Real leather boots and white fake fur Clothes from Primark, gold from Argos Orange foundation and too much lipgloss Little white thong and black push-up bra And she found love each night standing outside the Spar I likes you like You knows I do Last week I loved ‘er But now I loves you 12
  • 4. She liked a Chinese, bur he liked a curry She said less get married, he said woss the ‘urry She patted ‘er guts, I’m expectin’ she said He fought of ‘er dad, next week they was wed Seven munfs later he gorruh surprise The baby was fine, but ir ‘ad Chinese eyes I likes you like I don’ like yuh sister You’re my true love I swear I ain’t kissed ‘er Their eyes met ‘cross a crowded chippy He played wiv his phone, she pur on some lippy She ordered a sausage, he asked fur two cones They knew they was cousins, their last names was Jones They started tuh date, they was mad fur each uvvuh And found out too late that they ‘ad the same muvvuh I likes you like I don’ do lying I didn’t go wiv ‘er So bloody stop cryin’ 13
  • 5. Oh, I Wish I’d Looked After Me Tits (after Pam Ayres) Oh, I wish I’d looked after me tits, Those two great front wobbly bits, All the bad bras I chose, And the ill-fitting clothes, Oh, I wish I’d looked after me tits. I wish I’d been that much more able, When me front bits was firm, like, and stable, To choose a twin cuppin’, To hold me boobs up in, That were wired up with big bits o’ cable. When I think of the brassieres I wore, That made both me bosoms feel sore, They was either too tight, Or too loose, like, and slight, But I didn’t care – I could score! Me mother she told me no end, “Don’t you follow that lacy bra trend!” I was young then and gormless, Me bras was all formless, I never had much time to spend. 14
  • 6. Oh I slung cloth around ‘em alright, But I chose things that didn’t fit right, The lace scraps I bought, Didn’t give much support, But I didn’t mind, in the night. Me mother’s advice did I spurn; Too late, oh, too late did I learn, If I’d chosen a brassiere That looked much less jazzier, Me boobs now would be much more firm, Now I lays in me bed and each breast Do slope down each side of me chest; They wobbles and jiggles, Like fat worms they wiggles, And sits on me knees when I rest. How I laughed at me mother’s front bits! Now it’s mine that flop down when I sits. Me proud, pointed shooters Now two flabby hooters – Oh, I wish I’d looked after me tits! 15

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