Bad Tempered Alf being of Sad renown,
Is angry with anything from the Sky to the Ground.
For he Shouts at the Birds and Screams at the Bees,
And Chastises the Cat that’s covered in Fleas.
And the boys from the street retrieving their Ball,
Take flight from the Yells that erupt from the Hall.
To the Couple next door with the Music to Loud,
His kicks at the Wall would make ‘Bedlam’ feel proud.
Then poor Miss Tibbs who ‘Hello’ed’ on the Bus,
Was shocked by a Tongue that would make Liam Gallagher blush.
When the band from the ‘Sally’ gave tune on the Street,
They ducked Rotten-Fruit and a hasty retreat.
When asking Old Alf to calm it all down,
Its like telling Mike Tyson he’s a bit of a Clown.
He Stamps And he Shouts and he Snarls in your face,
Then tells you to ‘Go Forth’ with no Style and less Grace.
Now ; Poor Old Alf is laid down in his Grave,
After clutching his Heart from his very last rave,
And Heaven these days are a noisy Affair,
With the constant complains about the Choir up there.