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Saturday Live

Elvis McGonagall

  • JP
  • 2 Feb 07, 10:21 AM

Elvis McGonagall - poet, twit and armchair revolutionary does the rhyming this week. Find out more about him on his .

elvis2.jpg

Talking Turkey

We鈥檙e doomed, we鈥檙e damned, we鈥檙e sitting ducks
We鈥檙e stuffed, we鈥檝e cooked our goose
The ravens have fled the tower
The chickens have come home to roost
We鈥檙e sick as a parrot, we鈥檝e had it
There鈥檚 nothing we can cockle-doodle-do
Just watch the bootiful birdies sneeze
Here comes the avian flu

Cry, Cry, Cry

鈥淥yez! Oyez! Oyez!鈥
Barry the Cryer鈥檚 not crying for the moon
For crying out loud he鈥檚 the talk of the town
From Blackpool to Rangoon
He don鈥檛 cry over milk that鈥檚 spilt
He won鈥檛 cry tears till the river runs dry
He鈥檚 leaning on a lamppost at the corner of the street
Shouting at the passers-by
He鈥檚 got lungs of brass and an iron throat
He鈥檚 crystal clear with perfect pitch
Boo-ya-shaka he鈥檚 the council鈥檚 rapper
Though he鈥檇 never bark 鈥淥yez bitch!鈥
鈥楥os he鈥檚 got a civic sense of dignity
With his buckled shoes and bell
In his wicked red threads and his ring-a-ding bling
He鈥檚 Busta Chimes, he鈥檚 dressed to yell
Yes, he can cry blue murder
He can cry a snappy slogan
He could cry for Argentina
He鈥檚 cried for Terry Wogan
Like Lulu 鈥 he just wants to shout
He鈥檚 the king of the crying game
And the day that he hangs up his tricorn hat
It鈥檒l be a crying shame

That (Everything But The Kitchen) Sinking Feeling

We embarked upon our adventure
With a cargo of hopes and dreams
Gallivanting toward the Galapagos
When our laughter turned to screams
As killer whales ate our sails
(Calorific value nil)
And left us in the doldrums
Where the sea is both savage and still
And it鈥檚 dog eat dog and it鈥檚 fish eat fish
And the sharks watch 鈥淛aws鈥 with delight
But their Hollywood teeth are just dentures
So we鈥檙e not on their menu tonight
Then suddenly on the horizon
There鈥檚 a beautiful pea-green boat
At the helm, a Brown Owl and a pussycat
And six Brownies who鈥檒l keep us afloat
鈥淐os they鈥檝e all got their coastguard proficiency badge
And they love to lend a hand
And they scramble us eggs and they bake fairy cakes
And look! Ahoy! There鈥檚 land!
Where a man plays a wee ukulele
He鈥檚 a comic entertainer
Crying out the news of shipwrecked crews
Who鈥檝e survived like Gloria Gaynor
But now we must abandon ship
As our programme sails to a close
It鈥檚 鈥淕oodbye-ee!鈥 from me, it鈥檚 鈥淕oodbye-ee!鈥 from Fi
Here comes the theme tune 鈥 鈥淪teady As She Goes鈥

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