Author of books on Calcutta, Delhi and Dar es Salaam, I am now blogging as a lay person about the Church of England and the Anglican Communion. I am also blogging about the effects of World War One on the village of St Mary Bourne, Hampshire.
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Tag Archives: Paddy Roberts
Love isn’t what it used to be, No sirree, no sirree: No shrinking violets too scared to say yes, No leading up to a gentle caress, Just grab a handful and damn the finesse. Love isn’t what it used to … Continue reading
Yippee-i, yippee-oh Yippee-i, yippee-oh, yippee-ay Which sounds rather silly, but ev’ry hillbilly Spends half his life singing that way He was just a lavender cowboy With only three hairs on his chest And he rode on a filly called … Continue reading
Got an idea you don’t love me any more Got an idea you don’t love me any more You keep treating me mediocre Hitting me with the poker Got an idea you don’t love me any more. Got an idea … Continue reading
Oh, I was a bit of a lad, I admit. My past was a trifle shady, Until in the end I went right round the bend And married a tattooed lady. I immediately saw there were pictures galore Round ev’ry … Continue reading
All the little angels are sent up, are sent up, All the little angels are sent up on high. Which end up? Ass end up. Which end up? Ass end up. All the little angels are sent up on high. … Continue reading
When I was a little wolf cub and you were a brownie, We always remembered our good turn each day. First it was your turn, and then it was my turn, And life was so wonderful and carefree and gay. … Continue reading
A silly song for Saturday….
I’ll tell a tale of a jealous male and a maid of sweet sixteen She was blonde and dumb and she lived with her Mum On the edge of Bethnal Green She worked all week for a rich old Greek … Continue reading
Oh the Englishman is noted for his “sang froid” Which translated means his usual bloody cold And he loves his pipe and slippers and the missus and the nippers And he’s happy simply growing old And he never says a … Continue reading