Welcome to the page dedicated to John's second book, A SPANIARD IN THE WORKS. I must admit that this is my least favorite of Lennon's works. He uses many more nasty sexual referances and dirty words in this book than he did in his others. The humor is much more cynical and hateful, as well. I found much of it downright offensive, and only put my favorites here. If I get my hands on a copy again, I'll add some more. Again, any gramatic or language liberties were taken by John, and are not typos. Enjoy!


This first piece is poem, entitled "The Fat Budgie."

The Fat Budgie

I have a little budgie
He is my very pal
I take him walks in Britain
I hope I always shall.

I call my budgie Jeffrey
My grandads name's the same
I call him after grandad
Who had a feathered brain.

Some people don't like budgies
The little yellow brats
They eat them up for breakfast
Or give them to their cats.

My uncle ate a budgie
It was so fat and fair.
I cried and called him Ronnie
He didn't seem to care

Although his name was Arthur
It didn't mean a thing.
He went into a petshop
And ate up everything.

The doctors looked inside him,
To see what they could do,
But he had been too greedy
And died just like a zoo.

My Jeffrey chirps and twitters
When I walk into the room,
I make him scrambled egg on toast
And feed him with a spoon.

He sings like other budgies
But only when in trim
But most of all on Sunday
Thats when i plug him in.

He flies about the room sometimes
And sits upon my bed
And if he's really happy
He does it on my head.

He's on a diet now you know
From eating ear too much
They say if he gets fatter
He'll have to wear a crutch.

It would be funny wouldn't it
A budgie on a stick
Imagine all the people
Laughing til they're sick.

So that's my budgie Jeffrey
Fat and yellow too
I love him more than daddie
And I'm only thirty-two.


Snore Wife and Some Several Dwarts

Once upon upon in a dizney far away - say three hundred year agoal if you like-there lived in a sneaky forest some several dwarts or cretins; all named - Sleezy, Grumpty, Sneeky, Dog, Smirkey, Alice? Derick - and Wimpey. Anyway they all dug about in a diamond mind, which was rich beyond compere. Every day when they came hulme from wirk, they would sing a song - just like ordinary wirkers - the song went something like - 'Yo, ho! Yo, ho! it's off to wirk we go!' - which is silly really considerable they were comeing hulme. (Perhaps ther was slight housework to be do.)
One day howitzer they (Dwarts) arrived home, at aprodestant six o'cloth, and who? - who do they find? - but only Snore Wife, asleep in Grumpty's bed. He didn't seem to mine. 'Sambody's been feeding my porrage!' screams Wimpey, who was wearing a light blue pullover. Meanwife in a grand Carstle, not so a mile away, a womand is looging in her daily mirror shouting, 'Mirror mirror on the wall, whom is de fairy in the land.' which doesn't even rhyme. 'Cassandle!' answers the mirror. 'Chirsh O'Malley' studders the womand who appears to be a Queen or a witch or an acorn.


Benjaman Distasteful

Benjaman halted his grave flow of speach and lug off a cigarf he knew where peeky boon! He wrethced overy and berlin all the tootsdes.
'It were all nok a limpcheese then a work ferce bottle. Ai warp a grale regrowth on, withy boorly replenishamatsaty troop, and harlas a wedreally to fight. We're save King of pampices when all the worm here me aid.' I inadvertabably an unobtrusive neyber had looke round and seen a lot of going off, you know how they are. Anywart, I say get a battlyard pussload, ye scurry navvy, I beseige of all my bogglephart, way with his kind farleny and grevey cawlers. But Benjaman was a rather man for all I cared. I eyed he looking, 'Ben' I creid 'You are a rather man.' He looked at me hardly with a brown trowel. 'I know' he said, 'but I do a steady thirsty.' I were overwhelped with heem grate knowaaaldge, you darn't offer mead and monk with all these nobody, I thought. A man like he shall haff all the bodgy poodles in his hands. 'Curse ye baldy butters, and Ai think its a pritty poreshow when somebottle of my statue has to place yongslave on my deposite.'
'Why - why?' I cribble all tawdry in my best sydneys.
To this day I'll never know.
THE END


Our Dad

It wasn't long before old dad
Was cumbersome - a drag.
He seemed to get the message and
Began to pack his bag.

'You don't want me around,' he said,
'I'm old and crippled too.'
We didn't have the heart to say
'You're bloody right it's true.'

He really took an age and more
To pack his tatty kleid
We started coughing by the door,
To hurry him outside.

'I', no use to man nor beast,'
He said, his eye all wet.
'That's why we're getting rid of you,
Yer stupid bastard, get.'

His wrinkled face turned up to us
A pleading in his look;
we gave him half-a-crown apiece
And polished up his hook.

'Its not that we don't like you dad.'
Our eyes were downcast down.
'We've tried to make a go of it
Yer shrivelled little clown!'

At last he finished packing all,
His iron hand as well.
He even packed the penis
What he'd won at bagatell.

''Spect you'll write a line or two?'
He whined - who could resist?
We held his face beneath the light
And wrote a shopping list.

'Goodbye my sons and fare thee well,
I blame yer not yer see,
It's all yer mothers doing lads,
She's had it in for me.'

'You leave our mother out of this!'
We screamed all fury rage,
'At least she's working for her keep
And nearly twice your age!'

'I'd sooner starve than be a whore!'
The old man said, all hurt.
'Immoral earnings aren't for me,
and living off her dirt.'

'She washes everyday,' we said
Together, all at once.
'It's more than can be said for you
Yer dirty little ponce!'

At last upon the doorstep front
He turned and with a wave
He wished us all 'Good Heavens'
And hoped we'd all behave.

'The best of luck to you old dad!'
We said with slight remorse,
'You'll dig it in the workhouse man.
(He wouldn't though of course.)

'Ah well he's gone and thats a fact,'
We muttered after lunch,
And hurried to the room in which
He used to wash his hunch.

'Well here's a blessing in disguise;
Not only money too;
He's left his pension book as well
The slimy little jew!'

'What luck we'll have a party
Inviting all our friend.
We've only one but she's a laugh
She lets us all attend.'

We never heard from dad again
I 'spect we never shall
But he'll remain in all our hearts
- a buddy friend and pal.


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