User:Risteard

AKA The Bohemian Pop into Dewes NT in Santlerville and say hi!

AKA Owen Heary Proudly Serving Officer of Barnerd Way PD, Kempsterbank. Always looking for an opportunity to use excessive force.

Gypsy Poetry: Selected Works

Santlerville in the rare old times

The years have made me bitter,

The drink has dimmed my brain,

'Cause Santlerville keeps changing,

And nothing seems the same.

My Dribbling Beavers all are gone,

My Hall is long pulled down,

As the Grey unyielding zombies

Make a graveyard of my town.

But I'll stay here with my shotgun,

And I'll watch the light decline,

And I'll remember Santlerville

In the rare old times.

A Cry For Crasker Help

It's a frosty night and my Gypsy nose can smell the zombies coming,

So I says to you, head north and fight or else you're a big frilly woman.

But before you hit the exit, you'd better hold your whist,

And have some of my whiskey or you'll feel a gypsy fist.

We're hanging out in Dewes NT at the following address;

We're one block west of Dowdney mall (you'll figure out the rest).

You'll hear an old Bohemian sing of Malton and her folk,

Of shooting zombies in the face or giving them a poke.

But we're in heaps of trouble and we need the Craskers here,

We've lost Hanrahan and Brennan and aul' Rasher Clancy's ears,

We've lost O'Connell, and O'Donnell, and O'Riordan and oh dear,

I've lost my intestines to an undead cavalier...

"Brnhr. Graaaagh!" The zombies they will groan,

"Help me I'm infected" some unlucky kid will moan,

"BOOM. BOOM." Our shotguns they will roar,

Oh, the fun we'll have the day we die for Malton!