Number 20, Not Far Enough

Wednesday 16th May.

Number 20,  (Day 21 I think, so one behind).

Not Far Enough

I can’t run very far,
I can hardly get in or get out of a car;
My friends say I smell pretty bad,
But so do they, from the whisky we’ve had.

I ain’t got nothing to fear;
I’m deaf in that eye and blind in that ear.
You can say whatever you feel,
I couldn’t care, it's no big deal.

One leg is as much as I need,
My guts will digest quite a good feed;
My hair fell out a long time ago,
But my brain’s still inside, as far as I know.

People say that I’m no good,
That I detract from the neighbourhood.
I may be fat and badly dressed,
But that’s no different from all the rest.

Everyone who lives on my street,
Averts their eyes and stares at their feet;
But they should take a look at each other,
Then maybe they’d treat me more like their brother.

I don’t carry a gun,
And I don’t threaten anyone.
It just so happens I don’t work;
I prefer to lounge and lurk.

I like to look at you,
And if you want you can look at me too.
I won’t mind if you wear a short skirt;
If I give you a wink it can't really hurt.

I could wear my shirt undone,
Let out the odour and let in the sun;
But I think it wouldn’t do much,
To get your attention, well, not as such.

I suppose I’m a bit of a slob,
I fart in the street and occasionally gob.
But you don’t know how nice I can be,
If you don’t make any effort with me.

Well I can’t run hardly at all,
And it’s no use asking me to play ball.
Exercise is such a wrench;
I’ll just sit on the bench.

I thought I’d got nothing to fear,
'Cos I’m a bit of a fixture here.
But thing’s ain’t right, and the doctor lied;
Next thing I knew, Lord ‘elp me, I’d died. 

© Stephen Saunders

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