Doggerel by Emmjay

There was shouting in the car park
And the word had got around that
The mad Syberian timberwolf was in the mood for a meal of hound.

He’’d been prowling round the back lot, hungry for a spat
And the local mongrel pit bull was certainly up for that.

It was true that our old Tony was fond of lashing out
And throwing muscly punches towards any left wing snout.
But the Mad Syberian timber wolf was also lean and mean
And liked to take his shirt off to show that he was keen.

He loped along the fence line, looking for his chance
He doubled back and forwards – an expectant rabid dance.

It is said that our old Tony was just trialthlete ham
And Vladimir, let’s make it clear, could scarcely give a damn.

So when Vlad’s team was caught out bad, a day we’ll not forget
When his Russian mid-range missile brought down Malaya’s hapless jet
Our good old team had come off bad; we’d lost dozens from our side
And it all came down to Tony to save some national pride.

So Tony to the plate stepped up and called the Vlad a dork
It was an act of provocation and not just casual chat
He said to Vlad that time had come to walk the fuckin’ talk
And Vlad was shocked to realise Tony had the balls for that.

In the back of the Pig’s Arms car park, Merv had organised a  ring
Of chalk spread in the gravel – it was just an impromptu thing
But good enough for pugs like them to do their crafty sting.

There was clearly spit and vitriol, two haters full of hate
Muscling up and puffing up with a ridiculous strutting gait
And Tony being cagey thought he’d send poncy Vlad to heaven
But hadn’t figured in Vlad’s corner, was an AK-47.

The night grew late, the moon had riz

At the drive-in, lovebirds was rootin’

And Tony learnt the hardest way
Not to fuck with Putin.