I am not an Emo I am a ... GOF
I’ve had it with kids with mohawks or mullets
Marble-like eyes and pimpled gullets
Can’t stand those with manholes in ear lobes
To which are attached iPhones with bright strobes
They stand around all boozed and on drugs
Vacant stares and who-gives-a-fuck shrugs
Tight tattered T-shirts, arms covered in tracks
low-hanging cargoes showing bum cracks
The dropouts, the losers, gropers and dopers,
Our malls now magnets to all the no hopers
greasy hair you couldn’t part with a rake
eyes hardly open - are they really awake?
Head full of nits and tats on their tits
Rings through nipples … holy shit!
Abusers for parents, dropkicks for mates
What can I say … their life ain’t great!
They spend their days getting up to hanky-panky
Then wonder why there’s no funds in the banky
Their idea of work? You won’t be amazed:
It’s as simple as sweeping the room with a gaze
When it comes to jobs they’re good at shirkin’
With Sundee to Saturdee spent jerkin’ the gherkin
Front up for interviews showing their undies
No wonder the dole queue’s long on Mondees
Bah! Lanky-haired emos with mascaraed eyes
Dressed all in black in a bid to disguise
There’s no spark in the dark, nil imagination
Can’t be happy when you choose procrastination
Surfers is now filled with spikey-haired dykes
The tongue-tangling kisses, oh boy, what a sight
With belly-ring bling and Chesty Bond singlets
a g’day-mate wave reveals underarm ringlets
What is it with me, who can’t tolerate youth
I mumble and grumble that they’re so uncouth
I was young once, before I drove with a hat
I pause and ponder: was I like that?
Nah, it’s not just them I whinge about
When it comes to politics I really SHOUT
Religion? either way don’t give a hoot
With injustice I really slip in the boot.
I hate bankers and wankers and corporate bullies
(Note to self: No more shopping at Woolies)
Can’t stand Singo or Ringo, the loss of our lingo
Reagents, contagents, real estate agents
Mice and lice and grubs in me rice
Pet fleas and bank fees and trips on the sea
I hate dobbers and robbers, post-modernistic art
Well, I’ve just got to admit: I’m a Grumpy Old Fart
©eoin macdhugail January 2012
Note: the views expressed in this piece are not necessarily those of the reciter