Makes music 
Doesn’t Hoover
There’s something funky in his fridge
Writes tunes
Like a groover
He never wanted kids

Makes music 
In the bedroom
But not the kind most people make
Likes synths 
Lot’s of headroom
Don’t care about his weight

The Funky Slob, he gonna make you sick
The Funky Slob he just makes music
Never cleans his house
Never takes a spouse
Never pays his rent on time

The funky slob never cleans the toilet
The funky slob never checks the boiler
What the dial shows
If the heating slows
If the thing explodes
He’s high


The Funky Slob

Mondo Bongo

Reprobation Nation

Warm, Modern and In Love

If cats could play cricket,
They wouldn’t be permitted,
For no cat has ever, ever,
Ever, been a gentleman.

So let us leave them to their games,
Of chase, and hunt and rearrange.
No fur balls on the wicket please,
And do not give the batsman fleas,
Nor swat the umpire with your claws,
For that is not within the laws.


Cricket Cats

Indecisively Yours

"What the f*** do you mean I'm old..." 
A sardonic retrospective of now seen from then.

Even Punks Get Old

Withering Highs

This tune just sort of happened. No idea what genre it is but voila. Badda-Bing!

Windy Mary

Sometimes when things get too much, all you can do is sing.

The Self-Doubter's Lament

Eternal student of music exploring all styles and techniques. Predominantly a strings man, I have become a born again Synth lover after denying them for years. Have always loved a drum machine though.

New tracks tagged #Peter Gilbert