Johnny Bravo's Poems

Ode to Chesters
Oh to be paid to hit things with sticks
And sit on a tourbus watching Bill Hicks

My cheeky drum fills the talk of a nation

I'd sit getting caned and playing Playstation

I'd get to start Zorrro and count in Bluetonic

My drink is Ribena, my haircut is chronic

We'd dress up as firemen in our souwesters

Oh, what I'd give to become Eds Chesters.

Drummers' Lament
They sit at the back and hold down a beat
But nobody stops them when they're on the street

Except for Phil Collins, but he was the singer

And he doesn't count, the short balding minger

If you saw Eds Chesters would you even suss?

He could be behind you on tomorrow's bus

The unsung hero of guitar pop's front wingers

And you'd still be pointing at bassists and singers

He probably sat at the back of the class

I bet he gets bored of Mark Morriss's arse

A view so familiar, he can't see the fans

Shouting at Devlin and waving their hands

Now he's got a web site which at least is a start

For the nation to learn about Chesters' art

A scholar, a gent, an inventor, a thinker

A curly haired Dad-faced Ribena drinker

Chesters, we salute you, king of the planet

For ####'s ####ing sake, ####ing stop snoring, Janet.

Other displays of talent by you lot

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