Willy The Bullfrog
There once was a Bullfrog named Willy the Bullfrog
And all that he did was croak on a log
Sitting around and having fun
And when he wanted to, he would soak up some sun.
But Willy knew that those days were almost gone
When he saw a bullet killing a fawn
And then in his pond went cans of beer
Then a bullet killed another deer
Then Willy who was full of fright
He hid away until the dark of the night
Then he gathered all the animals for a meeting
Saying hunters are not killing us for the eating
But because in our body runs blood of red
And because their guns shoots bullets of lead,
Many years ago in this land
GOD gave us life with the wave of his hand
There were foxes and herds, oxen and birds
But now our population is dwindling down to none
Ever since I saw that bullet killing a fawn
Then all the animals began to shed a tear
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poem by Randy McClave
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Your Not A Lady
So you say that you are a lady
Well that's hard for me to believe,
As I known the life that you have led
And the life now that you do lead.
You cheat around and you do also lie
And you curse and drink more than any man,
You cant teach virtues too your own two daughters
As them yourself, you don't understand.
You say you might be a lady
Well that I think could never be
As a lady doesn't brag on hickeys from other men
Or leave their husbands for other men to see.
And while their home is sleeping
A lady doesn't crawl out of the bed of her spouse
While her own daughters are their still asleep
And runs to bed a man who lives in a broken house.
So you say you think you might be a lady
I think I have heard that story once before
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poem by Randy McClave
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To Each His Own
The honest man will walk with a crowd
Where a guilty man he will walk alone
He walks in pity and he is never proud
But then as they say, to each their own.
They know the deeds that they have committed
And their ways and actions they have been sewn
Now their clothes of manhood have been fitted
And as they say, to each their very own.
A sinners way a christian will never accept
Where as sinners their ways they will condone
No evils or sins will they ever reject
But then as they say, to each their own.
They both have walked the very same path
And followed the wind from where it had blown
They were presented with the very same math
But then as they say, to each their very own.
Some persons seek truth and the answers
Where as some never want the truth ever known
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poem by Randy McClave
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You Have Done It Before
You have done it before
So you have done it again
With your ways and your sin.
Too you this it is not new
So no-one really knew
Your back to where you did begin.
You are walking the same path
That you walked in your past
That we thought you walked no more.
But then you went down that road
Which is full of shame and woe
You have returned to where you were before.
Again you are lying and abusing
Cheating and accusing
And example for all to see.
You’re letting everyone know
That truly you have no soul
Or a conscience for you to heed.
You have done it before
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poem by Randy McClave
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The Fence
Around my yard there stands a fence
It keeps the outside world out and I safe within
Though the structure is not that immense
It does the purpose as which it was built for and meant.
Neighbors and strangers it keeps out of my yard
Along with their trash and pets which does it harm
I am my yards protector, landscaper and guard
As it is my beauty, and not a trash bin or someone's farm.
My fence allows and welcomes the sunshine and the wind
Mother nature is always welcomed to visit and roam
The squirrels and the birds are always welcomed in
And welcome are the bee's with the pollen they've sewn.
Around my yard there stands a fence
It protects my yard from the enemies about
Too me it makes such perfect sense
Better to stop the entering, than for me to scream and shout.
As my yard is not the playground for a child to use
Or a shortcut for many persons to walk or run
As it it my yard which I won't neglect or abuse
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poem by Randy McClave
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The Scottish Dance
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
She then became my joy and pride
Then one-night she gave me Scottish ale
Then she became my Scottish bride
~We then danced around the table
We danced across the floor
We danced and danced all night long
And then we drank a little more~
She enjoyed to go out clubbing
Her family and mates I would meet
She was so exciting and loving
And when I grabbed her she said I was cheek...
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
She was also my Scottish bride
She fed me Scottish eggs and Haggis
I got so sick I thought I had nearly died.
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poem by Randy McClave
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Still Standing
Never will I let worries ever break me
I will take all, that anyone can give
I will not ask for help, when I can rely on myself
How else should a man, truly live.
When the world of mine seems to be falling down
And the world and people become so demanding
I will be like a wall, so solid and so tall
And always, I will be there standing.
Never will I give up on anything
I will be there till I am dead or the job is done
I will give no excuse, or let any laziness loose
I will not leave until that task has been won.
When the oceans of the world are flooding
And the waters will rise up to my landing
I will not run away, and then wait for a sunny day
As always there, I will be standing.
I will always remember how I had been raised
I know bettering myself is my greatest gain
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poem by Randy McClave
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I Am Bill!
I like to drink and I love to smoke
Which sadly though is not a joke
I even like to take an occasionally pill,
So I now have a really bad heart
Which is to blame on my part
So now, you can call me Bill.
I am not at all very tall
Others say that I am very small
Men are mountains I am just a hill,
I have no hair upon my head
So my head is covered or it would be red
So of course, you can call me Bill.
I have myself this one daughter
Whom says she has no father
That statement makes me feel so very ill,
It makes me feel also really sad
I cheated on her mom so she is mad
So of course, you can call me Bill.
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poem by Randy McClave
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A Saint
My father wouldn't talk to my own brother
And then he was mad at my own mother
So for that I preached, and I prayed and I cried
Now through wonders they are at each others side
So now this sounds odd and probably quaint
But if I perform another miracle will I be a saint.
If a Pope performs a miracle he becomes a saint
That is what I read and heard and I think its quaint
But not one miracle, he must perform two
I guess if the first was falsify then the second one will do
But what is a miracle this if I need to ask
Is it a cat that talks or a dog that laughs,
Isn't it a Miracle when a child is born
And Isn't it a miracle when a sinner loves the Lord
Or is it a miracle when someone is cured of the flu
And I wander if that one miracle, would really do.
Also you must be pure and you must be Kind
Then be virtuous, prudent and devout all the time.
So if I forgive my wife the adulterous and the whore,
Whom in Scotland was known to be at all mans door,
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poem by Randy McClave
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Timmy The Seal
Timmy the Seal was a friend of mine
I'm sorry for I heard He died,
Up in Alaska He was clubbed to death,
So I think, I will sit and cry.
For I remember still when He was a Cub
And the way He use to talk
And the way He smiled through His saddened eyes,
And; His funny walk.
I remember His Mother a good old Girl
And how much She loved Her son
And how She protected Timmy when the Hunters came,
So they killed Her; and Timmy cried so loud.
So into the ocean Timmy ran and jumped,
And swam as fast as He could swim
Though He escaped from the screams and the cries,
But He couldn't escape from where He had been.
For He remembered the cries and the bloody sight
And His friends who were clubbed to death,
And the Hunters who crept through the night,
While carrying those clubs of red.
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poem by Randy McClave
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