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Mr Sheehan,

Here it is yet another bloody year with you all,

We’ve had our ups and downs and sometimes we had a fall,

But I’m still standing here there is no one like me,

I put the y at the end of whitehouse poetry,

They call me Barney but you can call me sir,

And believe you me I can cause quite a stir,

I am not one to be messed with here at this mike,

If any of you disturb my poetry I’ll make you take a hike,

No noise there in the back if you please,

If the poet took time to write it, it should be read with ease,

This is a place for all poets to come and recite,

Or just read what they’ve written from pages they write,

I am stood here every week in my tuxedo you see,

My name is Barney and I am the whitehouse MC,

It’s an open mike each Wednesday in this pub,

476 consecutive nights this here is the hub,

Where you can come and take part or just listen if you choose,

Everyone is equal here there is nothing to lose,

We have candles and free food for you all to eat,

And everyone who reads will give you a treat,

Add your name to our list or just let me know,

I’ll call you to the mike and off you go,

We’ve been going now for almost 10 years,

A lot of smiles but never any tears,

We support all kinds of charities and so many events,

And we even got behind Michael D our president,

Tonight is my birthday and with you all I celebrate,

The time spent so far has been no less then great,

For 10 years I stand here and give it my all,

Without you, Barney there would be no whitehouse poetry at all,

Growing old is compulsory it comes to us all,

But there’s no rule that says we have to grow up at all,

As you stand here through all the laughter and fears,

Here’s to you sir and the next great 10 whitehouse years,

20/01/12
Man flu,


It’s come round again that time of year,

A time for men to cringe and hide in fear,

There’s nothing any man can say or do,

Coming home and saying he has man flu,

Get to bed she says if you think you can’t walk,

Beneath her breath, she can’t listen to him talk,

They’re all rather the same she says to her friend,

A bit of a cold and you would think it’s the end,

A tiny sniffle from any mans nose,

And they take to the bed without any clothes,

It’s looking for attention because they feel left out,

That’s what this man flu is really all about,

Attention I tell ye is all that they seek,

What about us we have the same every four week’s,

In the form of a period with the same stomach cramps,

Yet they lay in bed wanting to be treated like champs,

What about us women, who have to just carry on,

Hail rain or shine we don’t moan for too long,

On the school run we go and return in the car,

Man flu prevents men from travelling too far,

And feeding them in bed because they just cannot move,

This man flu has taken away all of their groove,

If a child awakes in the middle of the night,

Up we get for this is a woman’s plight,

But what does a man with flu think while in bed,

He doesn’t get ill often and wishes he was dead,

All the moaning and groaning that he now hears,

Comes from this woman and confirms all his fears,

It’s not that he wants all his duties to shirk,

He now wishes that he had just gone to work,

And avoided all the fuss and bother,

And as his fever rises he calls for his mother,

It’s tough for women to see their man get so ill,

Because he is now underfoot and there is no cure by pill,

Try think like a man who doesn’t get ill so often,

He tries not to complain and your words might just soften,

When all’s said and done he listens all year to you,

How very inconvenient to have a bout of man flu.

23.01.2012