It was fifty years ago on this auspicious day
Neil Armstrong had these prophetic words to say,
‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,’
Before stepping out to see what in Heaven he might find.
Will there be diamonds, just lying around?
Will there be gold, or the good oil underground?
A planet full of platinum- or plutonium- ours to take?
Some star-spangled silver to make into a lunar keepsake?
And what worldly wonders the brave spaceman saw;
Just rocks and dust, dust and rocks, rocks by the score,
Dutifully into the sample satchel Neil tossed in the rubble;
A dumb bag of rocks costing all this time, travel and trouble.
See that tiny twinkle, fading on the moons crust?
Fifty years on Apollo 11 sits, forever gathering dust,
Back on Earth NASA scientists say it has all been worth it;
Pity NASA’s accountants, they’re still struggling to unearth it.
There’s no more gracious loser than that humble Black Capped bloke,
Though handicapped by the International Cricket Councils ruling joke-
Backing England to win on boundaries, the latest of their master strokes-
Including that deflected six from that lucky bast- batsman, Master Stokes!?
On July the Fourth, Independence Day
President Trump put on his great display,
The Air Force planes soared and roared overhead
As Donald addressed his MAGA cap waving sea of red.
It was quite the show of militaristic might,
A tip of the hat to the old, the traditional, the white,
Then down came the rain, soaking the poor crowd through,
Between the rains and the planes Don screamed himself blue.
Let us give our thanks to our sweet Lord
For the sweet deal goin’ down at Chatom Ford,
Buy any fine Ford, Focus, Ranger, Rapture or 4 x 4
And here at Chatom Ford we say whoa, there’s more…
You get a ‘Merican flag, a bible and a gun,
Damn, it’s a deal hotter than Hel-the Alabama sun,
Won’t that flag look purty waving on your pickup?
And that gun is sure to come in handy on any stickup.
But you won’t find me singin’ the good Fords praises,
Ever since I trashed my Pinto all Fords can go to blazes,
I won’t believe a blessed word Chatom Ford may say,
God willing, I’ll keep rolling in my Chevrolet till Judgement Day.
Sweet Jesus, just as one gun-nut falls, another fills the breech;
They’re sending their heart-felt condolences to Virginia Beach
Where yet another gun-totin’ disgruntled worker went ballistic,
God, aren’t these constant thoughts ‘n’ prayers sounding ritualistic?
Old Sir Mick just keeps on a’rolling,
Geriatric Mick prefers jiving to strolling,
But now, in his seventies his step’s begun to stutter
His high-living past has set his stony heart all a’flutter.
A dickey heart valve needs refurbishment
For Micks old ticker’s taken some punishment,
There’s no doubt when it comes to wear and tear
Micks plucky organ’s done more than its fair share.
Now the old pump is suffering from overuse,
But in Micks case it sure ain’t down to self abuse,
Cigarettes and bad habits have contributed to his current issues
But his old wives and girlfriends won’t be reaching for the tissues.