P.S. GOD
by
Mike Harding

I don't want to sound
Silly, dear God
But I been thinkin' very hard
'Cos my teacher said
You made all the world
And even bits of our back yard,
But l want to know, do you get dressed up
On a Sunday and go walking out
In itchy clothes and squeaky shoes,
An' if you gerrum mucked up,
Does the Holy Ghost shout?
Give you a clout?

I don't want to sound
Daft, dear God,
But I been thinkin' quite a lot
Ever since I pinched
A penny chew
From the counter at the corner shop.
My teacher said that pinchers go to hell
An' if that's true then I'm sure
If I'd known then I were going down there
I'd a pinched a bloomin' sight more than a penny chew
I would 'ave 'ad two, or nine, or a few.
don't want to sound
Like a big girl's blouse,
But if you're all that good
Why don't you stop
Them big ones at school
From bashin us likkle ones up?
Big MuIQueen with his knuckly hands
Keeps twistin' me arm till I cry,
So if you won't hit 'im wiv a thunderbolt
Then make me twice his size, I'll give him two black eyes
Make 'im eat snot pies.

Well, I don't want to sound
Stupid, God,
In this letter I'm sendin' you,
But does your mam
Make you eat your cabbage
Like my mam makes me do?
I fink cabbage tastes like snot
And I don't like cabbage an' peas.
Why did you 'ave to invent that muck
When you could've made ice cream grow on trees
'Stead o'dem peas.
Well, that's really
All, dear God,
But P.S. just a minute,
Last Christmas Day I got a cracker,
I got a cracker,
And it 'ad nuffin' in it.
All the ovver kids got blowers and fings
And they were lettin' um off.
I don't want to spoil your birfday
But I fink Santa Clause is rippin' you off,
Him an' 'is elves, 'elpin demselves.

The end