Some Call Me A Boring Old Fart Poem by Francis Duggan

I'm not interested in football or baseball or tennis or cricket or art
Or opera or modern poetry some call me a boring old fart
I'm just one of many poetasters a writer of doggerel rhyme
For me the fun is gone out of living I'm wearied by old father time.

I sometimes go to the Local Pub intending for to have a quiet beer
My so called mates ask me to join them their stories I'm obliged to hear
They talk of their to be champion sports children their whole world revolves around themselves and their lives
And they think I find them interesting though my sympathies are with their wives.

Toffy the old royalist from Manchester he change the subject to his way
On the marriage of Charles and Camilla he is one who has so much to say
He is convinced that he's a good mate of Charles so convinced he doesn't have to pretend
But even if snobby Charles did know him he would never claim him as a friend.

Bill O he likes to talk of cricket not one of the most travelled of men
He hopes that Australia will prove too good for England and that the ashes once more they will win
He keeps an autographed photo of Shane Warne in his wallet along with a photo of his children and his wife
Some people not hard to keep happy they do not ask too much out of life.

David Park is an Aussie Rules fanatic and he loves the Cats of Geelong
He boasts the Cats this year will be Premiers in September they will be on song
He is always happy whilst his team is winning but so out of sorts when they lose
And at the pub after a defeat he drowns his sorrows in the booze.

And Jimmy the bear in his mid thirties with a stubble of hair on his chin
He boasts of his teenage son Andy of how last week he captained the under sixteen footballers to a great win
And I to be polite feign interest whilst in my heart I do not care
If his son will inflate his big ego by becoming a renowned football player.

And mean spirited Joe's favourite subject is always poor boat refugees
He says the Government ought to deport them these people they populate like fleas
The others they nod in agreement but I feel compelled to speak out
And of my disappointment at his ignorance I never do leave him in doubt.

Big Peter the sturdy bearded fellow he supports the war in Iraq
And he claims for the benefit of democracy Iran we now ought to attack
He already has an army career mapped out for his teenage eldest son
There is an old saying worth repeating those who live by the gun die by the gun.

Young Denis in his early to his mid twenties he boasts of the loves of his life
But he never mentions the woman he still loves who dumped him to become his ex best mate's wife
For a while that deflated his ego but he is not one of the wisest of men
And perhaps it may not occur to him that in love one does not always win.

I'm not interested in modern poetry, in ballet or in sports or in art
Just one more gray haired ageing poetaster some call me a boring old fart
And when I go to the Local Barroom with the intent of having a quiet beer
The stories of self centred people I am always obliged for to hear.