OH DANDY!
By
Manny Barilow

I've been singin' all my life,
Schmalzy songs to you, housewives;
Give you what you want,
Me on my piano
Go right to your heart,
My voice is just pure

Honey, sweet and so damned fine,
Keep in tune most of the time;
Lookin' down my nose,
I see adulation
And I realise
How happy I make you, I'm dandy.

And I'm hot and I'm whole and I'm snaky
And you love me a lot, ah, it's scary,
I blow kisses and drive you all crazy,
And you hope that it's me you'll marry!

I'm lookin' at the sands of time,
They're runnin' low but doin' fine,
Due to a new world of nippin' and tuckin'
Now at my command,
Gee, man is my luck in! I'm dandy.

When I sing I make you women happy
With harmonious ease, win a Grammy,
I'm no meathead, I am a neat chappie!
And you write me each day, 'Dear Manny'.

Women love my looks
Yet I am unwedded
And now it's been said
My pencil's unleaded, how dare they!

I'm a guy and I'm okay and funky
Yeah, a good catch for any young lady,
What a dude, I'm stupendously hunky
And I'm able to father a baby!

Yet where are the dames I made happy?
Oh, and why are my hits so few?
Do you think they're outdated and crappy?
Gals, I need you!

I RECALL
By
Agnetha Faltskog.

We had our youth, we had a dream
The time was right, our flame was bright
And our talent shining;
Frida, Benny, Bjorn and me,
All made music history as we, a
Group of rural, guileless Swedes, with pert girl stars
Sung a merry ballad
Called 'Waterloo',
And it won Eurovision too!

I can still recall 'Mamma Mia',
I recall them all;
A hit with each new song, we could do no wrong,
'til that rainy
Summer came along.

I was the one they talked about, I
Was the girl with golden hair,
All the men adored me.
I was suffused with restless fame
As trusty fans called out my name.
Amazing!
Those wondrous years of starry sparkle
All seem funny and surreal,
Yet underneath, I had a fear of choosing,
Between the things, that I risked nearly losing,
I shook my head,
And left so many things unsaid.

I can still recall 'Mamma Mia',
'Winner Takes It All',
A hit with every tune,
We outshone the moon,
'til one dark day
Sorrow came so soon.

Marriages can die,
Under pressure,
True for you and I;
We just slipped apart, and it broke my heart,
It was time to
Make another start.

And now you're writing songs for shows,
A man with flair, a millionaire,
And your name is hallowed,
I shunned my fame,
Well, that's the nature of the game.

I can still recall 'Super Trouper'
'Winner Takes It All'
Now I'm a recluse - rueful? What's the use?
Life is short, it's
Time to call a truce.
Thank you all so much
For the music,
For giving it to me,
A songstress I'll remain, I'll repel my fame
I'll surrender.
My future for less pain
A songstress I'll remain
I surrender, I'll treasure
What remains.

"WHICH CHERIE?"
By
Tony Blair

La la la la la loo
la la la la la loot

My Cherie has more - money, wit, celebrity
My Cherie has more, attitude than even me,
My Cherie so smart, with your eerie smile, your icy heart,
Wow! Don't think that we will ever part,
'Cause you are the same as me.

In a courtroom, articulating Human Rights,
Or the boudoir, removin' those enormous tights,
While asleep in bed, lots of wealthy schemes invade your head,
Always been there since the day we wed,
Yet I'm glad that you are mine!

Maybe some day, you'll find your true morality
Maybe some way, you'll yield to your mortality
My Cherie, amour!
Wheeler-dealer woman, I'm in awe
Utterly infatuated, you're
Totally the mate for me!

La la la la la loo
La la la la la loot.

NINETEEN, GOING ON FOREVER!
(from female to old rebel.)

[Ellen:]
You stand, Daddy dear, at a certain stage
In life, called 'being older',
I think daddy dear one should act one's age,
And do as one is told, sir.

[Pa:]
I'm told ... er?.

[Ellen:]
You are sixty going on seventy,
Maybe it's time to think?
No more old-farty prancings at parties,
After you've had one drink.

You are sixty going on seventy
Waffle a load of bull,
Think you're the bees-knees, lovin' the Bee Gees,
Father, that's so uncool!

Genteel and uninformed are you,
Of trends too unaware,
Plus a remaining flaw or two
I'm offering to repair.

You need someone clever and streetwise
Telling you what is new,
I am nineteen going on twenty
I will re-educate you.

[Pa:]
I am sixty going on seventy
Now my confusion grows!
Texting and emails, eerie blonde she-males,
What do I know of those?

I am sixty going on seventy,
I know I waffle on,
But it's all pifflin', for no-one's listenin'
They'll want me when I'm gone!

I'm a mite uninformed, ok,
On that I will agree
Buble, Beyonce and Coldplay,
All three bewilder me!

I need someone clever and streetwise
Telling me what to do,
You are nineteen going on ninety,
Ellen, it won't be you!

A BALCONY SCENE
The Queen's Blue-eyed Son

"Mummy?
Mummy?
Ooh ... er."

Charles stands alone, a man of royal birthright,
The crowds wait below, wondering what on earth might
He wanna say, on his new annual birthday,
Faces them now and here is what he does say...

"Tee hee everybody, do you think I'm sixty?
Surely I don't look my age?
Come on, all of you lot, you must think me hot, now
Mama ain't I all the rage?"

He's peering down, waiting for an answer,
They're peering up, thinking he's gone barmy,
Unfastens his coat, looking sorta smarmy,
Thinks he's Mr Cool, but he's more Mr Dad's Army,
Hips gyrate, like an ageing John Travolta,
Winks at a cute girl in the crowd (but just revolts her).

"Tee hee everybody, do you think I'm sixty?
Surely I don't look my age?
Come on all of you lot, you must think me hot, now
Mama ain't I all the rage?"

He minces round the balcony
Saying 'Jagger ain't got nothing on me!'
Dances a jig so all the crowd can see...

Meanwhile, the crowd are murmuring, mixed reactions,
He struts around to the tune of 'Satisfaction',
Executes a knee-bend, executes the splits,
Something goes 'click!', he cries "Ouch it's my coccyx!"
Three meaty men lift his feet up off the ground,
Haul him away, as he utters this last sound:

"Bye bye everybody, do you think I'm sixty?
Surely I don't act my age?
Come on all of you lot, you must think me hot now,
Na na ain't we all the rage?
Hey, get me!"

A pious dude, one Leevie Cager,
In cheekily winning a wager,
Did volubly fart
The six oboe parts
Of Mozart's 'Quartet in F Major'.

SEND IN THE BROWN
(The Unfit Intervener)

Once banks were rich,
Now they are poor,
Profits are plunging way down,
"Mayday!" they roar;
"Call PM Brown!"

On his white horse,
Jaunting around,
He keeps on thinking he's great,
Handing out pounds,
At a fine rate,
Meet Lender Brown.

When genuine greed, cost them a lot,
Gordon arrives on a steed with his bottomless pot,
Like Don Quixote he tilts at too many windmills,
Set in his aim,
Set in his will.

Isn't he wet?
Isn't he weird?
The inane, canny Scot with a twitch,
Has made it quite clear,
"My sword is unfurled!
Let me save the world!"
The guy is a clown.

Are we, then, rich?
I feel we are not!
Nay, money's scarce, aye and he's lost the plot;
My my, Cheater Brown
You un-funny clown,
Your country is shot!