WIT THINLAWS BY JIM BYRNE

Al tell about my story,
Me sat nav has been nicked,
It`s just not hunky dory,
I`ll find out who, They`ll get a kick.

A can`t seet numbers in`t dark,
Even with far seers on,
Will there be a place to park,
When we leave will our car be gone.

Not so keen on thinlaws anyway,
Pickin on this, Pickin on that,
Never agree, The will not sway,
Both walk round in boler hats.

One time turns in`t music hall,
Seen em all they say,
Alus been to every ball,
The audience they will play.

We are here now on Christmas day,
Stupid party hats to wear,
Parkin our car Three streets away,
Almost more than I can bear.

First hour is all about complaints,
Her back, His big toe, Arthritis too,
He`s a follower of the saints,
She  only wears one shoe.

It`s illness ,Rugby, Had a new loo,
Party time , Annie Zeigler amd Webster Booth,
I want George singin old brown shoe,
It makes you want to move.

He knows everything, He`s done it all,
He puts this world to rights,
You know nowt, He`ll tell you that,
He`s wearing ladies tights.

Very fetching I must say,
Thinks he`s on that stage,
Puts on make up every day,
Doesn`t know his age.

Away wit fairies, So it seems,
I`m drained , We`re leaving soon,
What a day wit thin laws
I`m knackered with these Two loons

WHO IS MY DAD BY JIM BYRNE

I`m pregnant again with a smile,
It could be one of three,
Iv`e rang up Jeremy Kyle,
To see who it could be.

Could be Ste, Or Josh, Or Bill,
Had all Three in one day,
I wont tell them yet, Not until,
Jeremy Kyle has his say.

He does those tests that tell you who,
I`m sat there hopin it`s Ste`s,
I`m hopin his foot fits my shoe,
If not I`m on my  knees,

Came our day on the telly,
Cameras and Jezza everywhere,
Me with my big fat belly.
Ste, Bill and Josh in the chair.

Something on the end of it was the roar,
Who is the father he said,
Ste, Bill and Josh looked so bored,
Who did you take to your bed.

Being drunk stops me remembering,
Could be all three i suppose,
Could be Ste, He saw to my rendering,
He was quite cheap too, As it goes.

Handed the results, Jezza , What,
That minutes silence shattered my nerves
I`m coming out in red spots,
It`s not them that altered your curves.

I`m buggered if i know the father,
All Three were now in`t clear,
I don`t know who else i had been with,
That day , I`d been so full of beer.

Living in hope i would find him,
 Jezza to do more tests,
 Recall a blokes name, Think it was jim,
Untill i find him, I wont rest.

DIETS ARE BORING BY JIM BYRNE

If you`re getting so big, You eat like a pig,
And getting to be quite obese,
Don`t worry about what you eat,
Just diet until you can see you`re feet.

There`s crunchies and picnics,
There`s jap desert squares,
All making you fatter,
Who the chuff cares.

I tried that weightwatchers,
All to no avail,
Made me feel giddy
Folk said , I looked  pale.

The stairs get harder to climb,
I`ll move a bit slower,Just take me time.
Take aways, I love em to bits,
I look like a woman with big hanging tits.

There`s hope for us fatties,
Give up the chips,
Push youself harder,
You`ll have smaller hips.

Diets are boring , Never give up,
Cut down the ale, You love a good sup,
Some fruit is fattening, Steak puddings too,
Do it for others, The least you can do.