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The Mighty Texx The Mighty Texx was expelled from the womb around 1982 into the deepest darkest depths of west Watford. He has been terrorising anyone who happens across his path ever since. It is rumoured he receives all his dietary needs from engine oil, nicotine and alcohol, but those who know this bizarre creature have revealed the secret that he also needs to eat the occasional rock. You will know his presence by the racket of an old car with no exhaust system followed by the stench of stale beer. Beware all who are unfortunate enough to hear the soul destroying sound of his poetry. |
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The times are changing, Dylan said Now that's what's going through our heads The hardest working honest folk Just watch their lives go up in smoke Now no one said that life was fair But man we're getting quite a scare The anger and rage fills my brain Like red hot lava coursing through my veins How could those cretins fail to see What's plain as day to you and me The whole economy based on fraud There's no real money crossing the board "The money's lost" they keep repeating What mindless drivel useless bleating The currency of which they speak Did not exist to grow so weak This country makes no bikes or cars For us to sell and send afar The money we make comes only from money To some a sin, now aint that funny It seems to me, they may be right As that's what's got us in this shite |
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the spidgle splodge ran through the town and turned the slack slicks upside down the flickle flacks were terrified whilst flibble flob just up and died a flackaroo had got a glop and tinkle tanks did belly flop some blib blob bloos were having sex this made the ting tangs very vexed for blib blob bloos and ting tang boys are both vivacious shy and coy the whole ensemble donked around till blipper couldn't hear a sound but flibble flob was flackaroo and those sick bastards all eat poo |
Oi Elvis giz a snout, i heard the spotty little street rat cry
out I aint got none was my reply Well this must have upset him as he hit me in the eye Though i've never met this little fucker before I learnt he likes it better when i'm laying on the floor He took me money, me phone, me wallet and fags And then he dropped the lot into his trendy record bag So now he waddles away as if he needs to shit To add insult to injury calls me a tit The moral of this story, as if you wanted to know Is that Watford town centre is not the place to go |
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