Derek The Chieftain Poem by Nick John Whittle

An Old Norse chieftain Derek was,
His Viking blood ran free!
He prayed to Odin, god of snow
And lived in Leigh-on-Sea.

For Leigh it had a Viking shop
Where much could be obtained,
Like fake tattoos and nose piercings
At twice the going rate.

But Leigh had been a special place
Since Derek was a lad,
And the Co-op was a great employer
It even buried his dad.

The weekends were his Viking days
When Derek dressed up a lord,
He'd roar and thrust his hips with glee,
And wield a rubber sword.

But fearsome Derek was known by some
In less than favoured words,
Coz despite his height and great big beard
He was hung like a hummingbird.

Lo! Despite his less than average girth
Two hundred kids he sired:
Shane, Wayne and Givenchy
Were just three he had acquired.

Derek's women did swoon to start,
By his big homemade tattoos,
But when they spied Thor's Hammer's size
They let out mighty boos.

‘Too late! ' cried he, ‘I've got you now!
You're the property of me,
You'll bear my kids and walk my dog
And then you'll cook my tea.'

And when they asked for Viking love,
The roar and thrust they missed,
He'd stare at them with a scowl and say:
‘Babe, on weekends I get pissed'.