It has more than a hint of the toxic

I don’t like this  new word cachexic

It has  more than a hint of the toxic

Yet is Greek

So we must speak

And practise until we all rock ,chick.

 

 

I am the opposite of what I once was

I think I’ve been washed in some Daz.

I’m so pale I’m translucent

But not  yet indecent.

I’m grateful  for all that me has.

 

Cachelocks are a new  type of safe.

You put your laptop in a brace.

Then you swear and you curse

And rattle a hearse.

I suggest then to hide that red face

 

Cachelicks are followers of  God

Who forgot how to spell, as they trod

Grapes and wild cherries

And other black berries.

And for them it was a sin to say,Sod.

 

Catlicks was a term of abuse

To us children who walked  from our house.

It was Belfast in miniature…

No bagpipes in the furniture.

I sometimes felt like a black louse.

 

For I had a friend who was Other.

They were Methodists from near  the river.

So I had to hide my religion

From even their pigeon.

I felt all the time in a state or a dither.

 

For I did not know what would deceive

Indeed not even what would please.

So I went stiff all over

I shrank into the sofa.

And my Lord was I happy to leave!

 

I suppose now I’d not give a toss.

Ignoring me was their loss.

I am both blonde and wise

And have two blue eyes.

Though my face can go red when I’m cross.

 

My skin is too thin ,so I’m told

And my nerves are much larger and bold.

So I feel everything double

When there is real trouble.

Indeed it need only be cold