Skerrit The Ferrit Poem by Gypsy Boy Ravey

We all know that prison’s no holiday camp
But no need to walk round impersonating a tramp
We’re all rough and ready and none of us posh
But Jesus Christ: Skerrit could do with a wash

He reeks from his head right down to his toes
Sit next to Skerrit need a peg on your nose
To put you off your dinner, he has the knack
As he stands up and gives off a whiff of his crack

He is told everyday but we’ve given up hope
That he ever learns what he should do with the soap
You could wait for a month, a week or an hour
But you’d never find Skerrit using the shower

He doesn’t half stink mate he doesn’t half pong
Ten thousand flies mate they just can’t be wrong
Sitting with Skerrit has never been fun
So many flies round him they blot out the sun

It’s no wonder Skerrit’s in a cell all alone
When he takes his pants off they stand up on their own
Skerrit’s the name and stinking’s the game
Sit next to Skerrit your nose is in pain


(c) varey 2013