Yes ..not the frivolous thing I wrote back at 164. I was young and silly then, neither less nor more. A Proper one ... by Ogden Nash. Who knows what poetry's for. You're dying to get to read it, of that I'm really sure. So here it is before you in all it's splendiferous glor CAPERCAILLIE. Ave Atque Vaillie ( he's done what I did there !) Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, capercaillie then doth sing - Kek kek kek, woosh, kek kek kek, whoosh ! ( well, it's OK so far I suppose) Sings he no cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-yitta-woo, ( cuckoo ? don't think so ) Trills doth he eschew, lark song and tereu, ( he's making it up as he goes along!) Hen doth he woo with wild Highland cockadoo - Kek kek kek, whoosh, kek kek kek, whoosh ! The truant from school doth think to hear a ghoul, ( he goes past a caper does he ? No way ) Bee-stung bear in pool, or scold on ducking stool. ( sillier and sillier, methinks) Nay, nay, young fool ! Here cries a ravished soul - (he's run out of ideas. Lost the plot) Kek kek kek, whoosh, kek kek kek ,whoosh ! To bird of caution rid, with rival now outbid, Comes, as to Duncan did, stop't ear and closèd lid, ( what's he on about now, the old fool?) And archer, slyly hid, transfixes him amid ( it's a protected species ? No ? ) Kek, kek, kek, whoosh, and kek,kek,kek, whoosh. Farewell, poor cock, which died a laughing stock - Yet thy pibroch doth lately run amok, ( that's the stupidest line yet. ) While chicks of strange flock chant, as they roll and rock, ( what ? I mean, what ??) Kek,kek,kek,whoosh, kek,kek,kek, whoosh ! As you can all see, he's got no idea at all. Or maybe just the one. Not even a very good one. And after that ran out he's just written a load of old cack. It wasn't even funny cack. I think mine was far better. And it was funny as well. I'm going to stick mine on here again, just to show you how poems about the Capercaillie should be written. I'm just going to fetch it back from # 164...... [ sounds of lots of mechanical clanking and scrunching in the distance ] I strode the forest, to and fro To track down that enormous "cro" Which is the rampant Capercaillie And which is valued mighty haillie. Meanwhile, he tries to plight his troth And crashes through the undergroth Most of which he then destroys And makes a most alarming noys. He really needs his spouse to conquer And ,therefore, to get to bonquer Without which she will have no young Her offspring , in effect, unsproung And nursery rhymes will not be soung And her bright spirit sorely stoung Then she will weaken, heart and loung Her heartstrings will become unstroung She soon unto her deathbed broung. I tried to tick the Capercaillie But dipped the bloody bird entaillie I blame it on the ecosystem Which meant I never got to lystem ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Manu .... Goodbye .... live ...
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AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
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