My darling, believe me, my love for you is true
If you were to leave me, I know not what I’d do
And so tonight I thought I might let all my feelings show
And I will take you to the most romantic place I know

Come with me to the cockfight my dear, come see the fearless fowl
The bell is like beautiful music to me succeeded by shriek and howl
Come with me to the cockfight tonight, come see them bite and scratch
We’ll see which one is puny and which one is tough when they stuff them down that hatch

Take your seat for the cockfight my sweet, where severed feet sail by
Eyes are pecked out as I gaze into yours, beauty as bright as the blood on their claws
Come with me to the cockfight, my love, come see them shove and maul
When entrails are flailing you grow pale and faint, but I’ll catch you if you fall

Come with me to the cockfight, my love, gasp as the blood runs free
Don’t be surprised if it gets in your eyes and mind how you sip lest it drip in your tea
Come with me to the cockfight, you may always of this be sure
As the cock of the walk rips the breast in his grip, that I’ll be more gentle with yours

And as your eyelids flutter, their wings begin to flutter
I think I’ll have a flutter on that rooster from Calcutta
And as they screech and squawk and cluck, I do beseech thee Lady Luck
For ample fortune and the pluck to ask my lady if she’ll maybe

Come with me to the cockfight, you dish, where wishbones splinter and snap
We whistle for gristle, and when one is dead, we’re enraptured as he runs around devoid of a head
Come with me to the cockfight, oh do, dinner’s included too
As niblets of giblets are shredded and torn, they’re a romantic meal for two

Come with me to the cockfight, oh my, come for the death and gore
When we’re together the feathers will fly and I’ll kiss you as they mop up the guts on the floor
Come with me to the cockfight next week, watch as their beaks dig in
The fun will begin as their innards appear
And I’ll save you an avian organ as a souvenir.

Copyright 2009 Donald Newholm – all rights reserved

There’s a girl in the village called Sally
And her beauty is truly divine
But Sally, alas, has a husband
So Sally will never be mine.

But one night when her husband was sleeping
She invited me out for some fun
I still dream of that one night with Sally:
She’s the only girl I’ve ever done.

When I dream of that one night with Sally
As I’m here watching over my flock
These feelings start building inside me
I don’t know what to do with my smock.

Now my master’s at rest
And the stars have come out
I think some of you have guessed
What this song is about:

I wonder what it feels like to kiss a sheep?
I’d sit beside a young one in the mud
Would she lead my tongue inside her mouth like Sally did?
Or pull it down her throat and chew the cud?
Would she nibble at my ears at all, and pin me up against the wall
And book us in a very cheap hotel?
I wonder what it feels like to kiss a sheep?
But I mustn’t lie with beast, I’ll go to hell.

I wonder what it feels like to touch a sheep?
Would she slip a hoof inside my underwear?
Would she tell me what feels good for her like Sally did
Or look upon me blankly and go “maaaah”?
Could I fit all my hand inside, and would I leave her satisfied?
Do sheep prefer a little more vibration?
I wonder what it feels like to touch a sheep?
But to lie with beast, it is abomination.

I wonder what it feels like to lick a sheep?
Do you think that I could find her magic button?
I imagine she would smell like pecorino cheese,
Or maybe she would taste a bit like mutton.
And if my sheep is like her breed, by following where others lead
Perhaps she’d find the time to lick me too.
I wonder what it feels like to lick a sheep
And will it make her love me if I do?

I wonder what it feels like to love a sheep?
I bet it’s bloody quick and feels amazing.
Then I’d turn away and count her friends and fall asleep
It wouldn’t even interrupt her grazing.
I’ll call myself an oviphile. Of course we’ll do it sheepy style.
My cries of joy will echo through the valley.
I’ll discover what it feels like to love a sheep
And as I give my milk, I’ll shout out:
Sally!

Copyright 2008 Dan Woods – all rights reserved.

Well it started quite innocently when I was young
And obsessed with the physics of aeroplane wings
And among other things, with the sizes of peas
Which my special fork sorts with the greatest of ease

I was raised by rich parents, I tell you they daren’t
Permit me to walk with the snails and woodlice
So that’s why kleenex boxes for shoes are so nice
If I touch something once then I wash my hands twice
If you sneeze on my shirt I’ll burn it in a trice
So don’t touch, I don’t know where you’ve been

I literally fly in the face of great danger
No fear that I’ll die; my concerns are far stranger
So when you see me hit a tree in a field
Make sure that the medical kit is well sealed
For the germs have no mercy and will never yield;
Broken bones are okay if they’re clean

Haircuts are bad, and the one I just had
Got me nicked on the ear, and the blood made me fear
That I might get infected and so I injected
Ten gallons of milk in my rear
Perhaps I’ll have my hair and nails cut this time next year

I am all too aware of the hygienic issues
And I am not scared, for I’m armed with ten tissues
One hundred milk bottles arranged round my door
They’re there to insure that the urine I store
Is sterile and healthy; I’m weird and I’m wealthy
I’ll live for a thousand years more

All food is diseased so I rarely eat dinner
No sickness in me, though lately I’m thinner
At least I have three dozen doctors on call
They tell me I’m fine but I still doubt them all
So each germ who sees will read “No Germs Here Please”
Inscribed on the sign on my wall

Don’t play with my food, cause you’ll only upset me
And dust off your coat, or your illness will get me
It’s far less contagious out west in Las Vegas
With clingfilm on pillows and sheets
Sorting green food from brown and dairies from meats

Now hark and you’ll hear of my latest collection:
I’m fetching all food chains who’ve ever been Texan
My favourite toenail is now more like a claw
It’s handy for stabbing the bugs on the floor
I take a great interest in Jane Russell’s breasts
As her nipples count 1 – 2 – 3 – 4

Preserving my health in my self imposed quarantine
Freer of dirt than I’ll warrant you’ve ever been
Ice station zebra is screened once again
My friends come to call, bringing virulent strains
of syphilis, scrofula, lurgy, consumption and gout
But there’s no way for them to get in, or for me to get out

Q – U – A – R – A – N – T – I – N – E

Copyright 2009 Donald Newholm – all rights reserved

Pie, pie, oh me oh my
Always once bitten but never twice shy
Pie, pie, don’t ask me why
It’s pie, pie, pie

Pie, pie, pie in the sky
Crusts crowd the clusters of clouds rolling by
Pie, pie, flying so high
It’s pie, pie, pie, pie, pie.

Copyright 2009 Donald Newholm – all rights reserved