An Inferiority Complex Involving Pork Pies Poem by John Thorkild Ellison

Why do you tell such awful pork pies?
All of us here can see through your lies,
If you once to the truth it would be a surprise,
But the Truth very often is a liar's disguise!

Perhaps you think you'll win our esteem,
We'll believe, after all, you're not what you seem,
We'll call you a hero, fulfilling your dream:
Wouldn't it be great if we fell for your scheme!

You'd better make peace with the person you are,
Try not to swagger when you walk to the bar,
Try not to boast about your second-hand car,
It's old and it's rusty and won't take you far!

It's a tragedy, really, that you feel so small,
You're short and you're puny and wish you were tall,
You'd like folk to come running whenever you call,
But when you cry out they don't notice at all!

Your trouble, my friend is the chip on your shoulder
Which seems to grow deeper as you get older,
You'd chat up the ladies if you felt bolder
But the smiles on their faces would turn a lot colder.

And it's all because of those silly pork pies,
The desire to be 'Someone' in everyone's eyes,
You've created an image that most people despise -
For God's sake stop telling such awful pork pies!