Free Deliveries

This poem could be subtitled An Ode to Minimalism. Being visually impaired, he liked to keep everything in order so he could find it, did my old man.

Which meant no unnecessary clutter, nothing left lying around, and "for God's sake, put the bloody sellotape back in the drawer where you found it you little get"

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Free Deliveries

Those pizza huts & curry shops
For breakfast, lunch or tea
Encourage us to stuff our chops
With free delivery

A table or a three piece suite
Although not necess’ry
Persuade us to become elite
With free delivery

The milkman on his merry round
With every grocery
Convinces us to save a pound
With free delivery

The father and the bride arrive
To great expectancy
The bridegroom has been hooked alive
By free delivery

When father time comes knocking
With a flight to sun and sea
Beware, he’s only mocking
With free delivery

Be warned, my little innocents
Can there really be
Such a thing – ask common sense –
As free delivery?

For anything delivered free
Is paid for in the end
Maybe twofold, even three
So careful how you spend

Who can resist a bargain?
Neither you nor I
But you haven’t spent one farthing
On what you want to buy!

Your house gets cluttered with pretension
And in decline your coffers
Then you build a large extension
To accommodate these offers

So my advice is do not buy!
Buy nothing great or small
Be wise, be prudent and comply
For happiness is all

And now you’ve learnt to mind your purse,
To jog your memory,
I’ll sell you this, a pound a verse,
With …  free delivery!


2 September 2009 

I Didn't Mean It

Drunken misadventures of a visually impaired, middle-aged man. I wonder who this could have been based on?

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I DIDN’T MEAN IT!

‘I didn't mean it, love, sweet love
I really didn’t mean it!
“Two pints!” you said, Two pints I had!
Plus that dozen in between it.

I didn’t mean to drink so much
and spend our weekly shopping
But just look on the bright side, love
It saves us supermarket hopping

I didn’t mean it love, believe me
My fate was badly written
You said my shoes needed a polish
I didn't mean to use the kitten

I didn’t know that rotten kitty
Would smother all the house
Carpets, curtains, window cills
While chasing your white mouse

I didn’t mean to drop it’s cage
And make it wild and run
I thought it was the toaster
And tried to set it to Well done

I didn’t mean to tear your bra
I mistook it for two hats
Which I could use just like a net
To catch the mouse before the cat!

By slamming at me like a door
I merely tried to grab your handle
I didn’t mean to make you jump
Onto that lighted candle

I didn’t mean to start a fire
And burn down all the house
I didn’t mean to toast your books,
Your kitten and pet mouse

I didn’t mean to make you mad
You really shouldn’t be unkind
Please understand that life is hard
For anyone who’s blind

Come let us kiss and make it up
Things are never as bad as they seem
We can start all over again
And this time, live our dream

Come let me wrap you in my arms
And kiss you once again
And as your clothes are ripped to shreds
Let’s pop into my den

And then the words you spoke to me
Restored my faith in life…
“You drunken fool, that’s not your house
And I am not your wife!”


2 March 2005

A possibly unfinished poem about Cardiff, the city he lived in almost all his life.

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Cardiff Twist on District List

Our city’s area’s to name

Would be boring, and a shame

Read the list and you’ll be hissed

But add a rhyme and you’ll be fine

No need for relevance or rhythm

A rhyme in time

And all’s forgiven!

So light a lantern up in Canton

Build a plot in Splott

Find a mission in Llanishen

And boy, you’re getting hot!

Translate alpha in Gabalfa

Make an oath in Roath

Catching felons in Saint Mellons

And we’ll get medals, both.

They feed dragons in Saint Fagans

From the diner in Rhiwbina

Call staff forth from Llandaff North

And nothing could be finer!

Some Dress comely in Llanrumney

Touchy-feely out in Ely

Come from Forfar to Tremorfa

And you’ll think of smiling, really

You’ll find spare water in Fairwater

And a drake stride out of Lakeside

Reads the banner in Pontcanna

And you’ll smile again, inside!

Ride the range down towards Grangetown

Wearing socks sold down the Docks

To a dark or lit church out in Whitchurch

So let’s attend in flocks

They chew Chen gum in old Pengam

Spend unseen in Pengam Green

Madams frown in Adamsdown

If you know what I mean

Church an’ Taff, Welsh for Llandaff

Has sin cloyed those in Cyncoed?

What men work around Pentyrch?

Only those employed!

Chase a Druid in Plasnewydd

Catch a phrase to teach Cathays

Scrub the deck with, folks in Leckwith

And sail away for days

All are cute down lovely Butetown

Oh, I say it’s Cardiff Bay

Joanna Lumley prefers Rumney

But the lady loves Milk Tray

How birds grin, to stain Pentwyn

And peck organs down, in Morganstown

But no such plan in Penylan

As it’s already brown.

They take senna in Pontprennau

And blame sport throughout Danescourt

‘Do your head in’ with Llanedeyrn

That’s why they’re all so short.

No need kill, those in Thornhill

But this gain is in Lisvane

And from Cowbridge down to Trowbridge

Falls the rain in Spain

Winds yon windlass in Tongwynlais

To hoist the wan in Cefn-on

Sparkling teeth enlighten Heath

Until they’re all but gone.

The Enquirer hides in Caerau

While shivers ride in Riverside

But turn insane by Pentrebane

To wander far and wide.

Change of name be, done in Maindy

But can’t fill a bladder now in Radyr

Who trod a path in Gwaelod-y-Garth?

The one who stole the ladder!

Come on down to Crockertown

And enter our town centre

Cycles gone in Michaelstone

And so they lack a mentor.

Press the Hash Key in Mynachdy

To end and count the clock out

To go ten rounds, the castle grounds

Most surely is a knock-out!

MORE AREAS BELOW POSSIBLY

SO MAY INCLUDE AFTER FINDING OUT.

Hurry orf Atlantic Wharf

Then check mate on Cardiff Gate

…

15 July 2012

now off to Oscar’s Christening

Spiro, The Soul Crew and The South Wales Echo

I think my dad may have had tongue in cheek while writing this. Although he did go through a spell of wearing a Burberry cap and smashing stuff up when City lost.

I don't think the Echo printed this one...

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21 May 2002

Viewpoint

South Wales ECHO

Thomson House

Havelock Street

Cardiff      CF1 1XR

Dear Fellow Football Fans

I must comment on that TV show called ‘Hooligans’ and screened on Channel 4 last Sunday.

The showpiece made me so proud to be a City Fan, that I immediately accessed the website advertised and became a member of the Soul Crew.  How inspiring it is to know that a gathering of well dressed Cardiff City fans are able to dominate their English counterparts

Do join us if you love the true meaning of football

Yours sincerely

 Spiro Jones

April Fools 2003

In honour of April Fools, here's the most successful trick my dad every played. These postcards were printed out by the dozen and sent to over a hundred friends, family and general acquaintances. At least one person (that we know of) turned up to her local GP with a urine sample. Rumour has it that the NHS in Wales gave a hoax warning to all a staff as a result.

But what was most funny (and possibly indicative of the organisational structure of the NHS) was that some doctors thought it was genuine and actually treated patients as a result.

So despite some people feeling foolish, this is a trick that may have had a net positive in the world. Better than littering the houses of the visually impaired, anyway.

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Front

Back

The Afterlife

A very dark and serious poem about death and the afterlife. Or at least, my dad's version of dark and serious.

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The Afterlife

The widow in her bed awoke
A voice called out her name
‘Mabel, Mabel, can you hear me?’
Chilling the air from whence it came

She stared into the darkness
And tremblingly replied
‘Henry darling, is that you?’
Though she knew that he had died

‘Yes, my dearest, it is me.
Didn’t I say that when I died
I would contact you again
From beyond the other side

‘Oh, Henry, Henry, how are you?
How is life beyond the grave?
Is it nice in paradise?
How do you pass the time of day?’

‘Oh, it’s lovely, Mabel darling,
Here the sun shines all day long
So every morning when I wake
I just burst into song.

‘I have some bread for breakfast
And then go down for a swim
I stroll along the gardens
And frolic in the wind

I have some bread at lunchtime
And take another dip
I mate with several females
Then take a little kip.

‘I eat some bread for supper
And take a final splash
It’s so serene and peaceful
No need to fret or dash’

‘But Henry, when you were alive’
The widow sternly said,
‘You were always in a rush
And you never ate your bread.

‘As for swimming, you astound me,
It was something that you hated
You couldn’t even swim, my dear
And we certainly never mated!

‘The afterlife has changed you so’
Henry answered, ‘It’s just luck,
For when I was upon the earth
I was not a little duck!’

30 November 2010

More Karaoke!

Five more "interpretations" of some of Frank's classics. Taken from the album Out of the Frying Pan - sent out of the blue to about a hundred bemused friends and family members at some point in the late 90s.

Despite the lyrics, he had a great relationship with my mum. And with his his mother-in-law. Although in the latter case, mostly because she didn't understand the lyrics.

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Cardiff, Oh Cardiff

Come Fry With Me

(I've got fat) Under My Skin

That's Life With My Wife

Your Mother's Here To Stay