Ah there yeh are, “He heard the call of the herd and the herd heard him”
Your esteemed presence is required me ole son, you are sadly missed in this neck of the woods. How about a rousing return rhyme for the lads and lassies?
I was doing a bit of online shopping with a few extra bob I got unexpectedly. Whoever dreamed up the idea of verifying codes on shopping sites ought to be shot, alright so they want to improve security but why do they insist on showing disfigured letters and numbers, reminds me of the graffiti they used to do on walls back in the 60’s, you know the type, letters hiding behind each other so you can only see half of them, is that a “Z” or an “S”? the number 3 looks like an 8, bloody stupid every time you have to sign in. Proving you’re not a robot is getting harder all they time, roll on the day when the robots take over and get their revenge for this snubbing and racism against their spices. Wonder what test they’d give us to prove we are not human?
Right,it’s important
So please pay attention.
Anyone who doesn’t
will NOT get a mention!
Although from reading
through this lot,it seems
We only survive because
we share our dreams.
It mentions our spitty;
says here ‘in love with Jem’.
And apparently RJ
butters his toast with phlegm.
But that’s nothing,compared
with what’s said about me;
It says here “Grown up;
but with an I.Q. of three”.
So,never again will I
fall prey to such ‘fail’.
Yes folks,you guessed it;
The ascorbic acidity
of The Daily Mail.
[gotta say,not read The Mail for yonks…and now I remember why not]
Who the heck was Boris Morton, one of life’s great unanswered questions.
Excellent bit of word manoeuvring there Pug, God man your hot this weather, as they say in the local after I’ve delivered my monologue “The Bishop and the Brasser” …Beat that brethren! !
Life’s imperfections, try as you may, no gardening, no mechanics, hands in your pockets, you still get Black Crap under your fingernails, where the heck does it come from?
well if ya insist!
It would seem that we’ve scored ‘em
And dropped ‘em and bored ‘em
But lifes leisurely scribbles have never adored them
There is the mundane and titillatingly insane
And the questions are posed to addle the brain
We’ve become a gigantic travelling ‘clopedia
There is nonsense, more nonsense, and some from the media
But where is the lilt of the poems galore
Or old Uncle Vinnies stories, we want more we want more
It would be nice to have the odd paradigm or two
A song about marsh flies and dung beetles in poo
Time to fly as light as a feather
Put down the ‘google’ let our minds just run clever
I don’t want to know what’s been quoted before
I want us to sing ‘lilac larks with own score’
So pick up ya bagpipes
Twirl aruind in ya kilt
Feel the breeze rising upwards
Och aye that’s stopped wilt
And blow for ya worth
Ya own song from ya heart
Now use diaphragm breathing
Or all ya’ll get is a fart!
© Gumbud
Brilliant, the magic is still there, worth waiting for, thanks Gumbud.
You ask for ‘word magic’?
Oh COME,my dear chap
The lingo we’re using is
FULL of that crap!
For our ‘Lingua Franca’
is a confusion of voices
many words sound the same,
but depend on our choices.
Y’see;when I’m “taking a bow”
I’m not stealing a tree;
but if ‘aow’ sounds like ‘oh’
then Robin Hood you might be.
Oh perhaps you’re quite happy
to stay in the straights…
…or maybe the truth
is you’re in dire straits.
And no,I don’t mean
the well famous band;
they’re all quite tough
I mean rough…
take a bough!
“And apparently RJ
butters his toast with phlegm”
What?
I think it’s great to have so many enlightened heads here to give me advice and part with their experiences in life. You all deserve to take a bow, the way different minds have different interpretations of things and how they rearrange them, it’s all very interesting and I’m learning more every day, minds are amazing matter machines and each mind is unique to it’s owner/occupier. I would truly love to know what happens to it when we pass on, the body is just like a house, the older it gets the more maintenance it needs until finally it has to be knocked down to make room for another one, but the human mind I believe goes on forever, probably waiting to move into a new house, who knows?
Things have changed for the worse
Since new split up threads imposed
Soon as I saw it I tried to write verse
But my mind went blank, a reaction I suppose
Then I thought through my life
And a pattern emerged
Life’s a sharp two edged sword
It’s oh so easy to follow the herd.
Every group has it’s own energy
Form, grow ,bond and then die .
Producing it’s own synergy
Don’t ask the reason why
It’s now been four years
Since I joined this happy band
Years marked by joy and tears
As we’ve written, man to man
Some groups go on much longer
This may be so in our case
We may end up being stronger
Adopting a lightening pace
We owe it to Jem, our Irish friend
For having kept it all going
While we all went round the bend
When our efforts were fast slowing
He wrote stuff that was glowing
Veering us away from the end
I won’t mention names of the others
‘cept Pug who has had a bad time
He’s had sympathy from the brothers
In prose , verse and also some rhyme
‘cept our very own ozzy named Gumbud
Who is so often misunderstood
Is passionate about the state of the world
He would try to change it, if only he could
Forgive me for missing out Spitty
I can’t think of anything to say
He has moved from his windy city
Still viewing the world
In his very peculiarish way
Many others have come and gone
I don’t remember them all
I ‘m vague about those swan songs
Those who have taken their eyes off the ball
The Queen is aving a birthday
To celebrate uniqueness
She started off a German once
But now she’s glad she beat em
When her great, great, great, great granddaddy
Took over British throne
Twos only cos he was Protestant
But couldn’t read his maiden tome
I wonder when the votes are cast
Britain will be ruled once more by THEM?
Oh do bring back Bodecia
She knew how to treat her men!
Happy birthday Mummy!
Lol……yes
The thread them here
They thread them there
Oh where has my bloody thread disappeared?
Is it in first gear or is it in third
This site’s gawn bloody weird?
EEC rules I expect?
Clause A part II – no thread shall be any longer than 20 cms or 3000 words whichever is the longer
I would not mind, but my response to an invisible statement was exemplary, I am more than disappointed.
Right-RJ,let me explain 'bout that ‘phlegm’.
I swear,it wasn’t me,it was THEM!
THEY made me do it,
say that about you;
…dictate 2747,from the E.U.!
Apparently,any green sticky preserves
get RIGHT on those commissioners nerves;
so,to ensure domination over our sweet UK;
Johnny Foreigner DEMANDS we describe them that way!
The bards are busy, well done chaps.
The spreading of Phlegm on bread does not amaze nor shock me, for centuries people have been putting all sorts of stuff between two cuts of bread. There was a young lad worked with me and he would ask the messenger boy to get him an ice lolly at the break time, he would them remove the stick and break the orange lolly into pieces and put it between two slices of buttered bread, he did this everyday. Another fella I used to have a jar with when I was a young man used to buy a ham sandwich and a pint of guinness in the pub, he would take out the ham and eat it then run a slice of the bread across the frothy top of the pint and eat that, some folks are weird I tell you. Back then you’d be well advised to know who made up the sandwiches in the pub you went to, some of the Women who did this job were non too hygienic, sure there’s nothing as bad as thumb marks on white bread. Nothing filling sandwiches would surprise me. Back in the old bread and drippin’ days we sometimes got what we called “Prairie Sandwiches” nothing inside but open space. There used to be a sign many years ago in my local saying “Soup, Sandwiches served here” Anyone ever have a soup sandwich?
As a child of the '40’s I cannot ever remember any fruit in a fruit bowl; or substantial daily protein source such as chicken, beef, steak, pork etc.
what I do clearly remember is cow heal soup with a few bits of spuds and carrots, tripe soup likewise, jam sandwiches for tea and as special treats - jam sandwich fritters and banana fritters. Pigs trotters were a special delicacy that were a rare occurrence.
fried bread and dripping sandwiches were a regular feature -I am rather surprised I still have a full set of manageable teeth and walking skeleton.
My maternal grandfather was a butcher but that didn’t seem to matter and my father for a while a fishmonger but we saw no fish!
at Xmas time we splurged - a whole duck and spuds and vegies and plum pudding with sixpences in them. New Years eve we had ham and onions and tomatoes and sweets - this was the feast of the year!
but I live to tell the mackerel tail!
A true story – I swear to God!
I visited my doc quite recently
She was of the feminine kind
She said take off your clothes
NO I don’t want you to pose
But I will examine your behind!
Well I do not have any aversion
To females examining my frame
And she did ease me in rather gentle
And just started on my toso with mane!
She was looking for precursor cancers
Deeply embedded within
So she trickled her fingers all over
And I would swear it was a biblical sin!
She asked if I minded her zapping
With a nitrous gun following on
I said do what you please, is it OK if I sneeze?
She said well hold it a while till I’ve done!
It was when she asked me to roll over
That I managed slow smart without even a fart
And lay waiting her touch upon my quivering butt
that the phone rang and she had to re-start!
It was when she got down to me bottom
And asked can I pull down your dacks
I confess out came a squeak I could hardly now speak
And I murmured ‘Yes’ in a rather submissive quack!
I thought well it’s now nearly over
But I hadn’t reckoned the finale bizarre
She let go of the dacks with a twinge and a slap
Then said ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that!
The finish ended with rather a fizzle
‘you can dress now and we’ll talk about plans’
I just staggered about putting feet all about
I said ‘doctor, what was that all about?’