I’m no bible thumper by any means but I do love the parables in the bible, stories that were told thousands of years ago to try to keep the folks back then on the straight and narrow, they enrich history and to me the bible, although it has been cherry picked to suit those in power throughout the ages, is a valuable record of olden times, i love this one.
“Listen! Behold, a sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured it. Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and immediately it sprang up, since it had no depth of soil. And when the sun rose, it was scorched, and since it had no root, it withered away. Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. And other seeds fell into good soil and produced grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirtyfold and sixtyfold and a hundredfold.” And he said, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”
An out stepped prince Charlie.;-)
— Mark 4:3-9 (ESV)
That is all very fine Mark, but what about the wild oats? n’er a mention about them, what about all the wild oats that were sown by so many young men? Did none fall on the good soil and flourish?
The sad thing about my youth is I was never given the chance to sow my wild oats, it was straight from the mothers apron strings and into the wife’s arms, there was no in between, not breathing space, 19 years young as I marched down the aisle, I was nabbed at an early stage and sentenced to life for a crime I never even got the chance to commit. I still can’t fully understand where I went wrong. but whats even harder to understand is how it all worked out so right, I couldn’t have had a happier life and a better family if I planned it all.
Too late now to sow anything, the garden is taken over by the missus, and the sower has lost all interest in planting.
There is an old fart called gumbud
Who is doing what shouldn’t be dud
He lives in downunder amid wild squalls and thunder
And just sits around here chewing the cud
there is a young builder called spitty
he’s building a add on – so pretty
we call him jackhammer Sam, he loves lettuce and ham
but the dust makes his hair go all gritty
there is an old fella called Jem
who hides from his wif in his den
at the end of the garden where all are ‘forbarden’
and he sits suppin poucheen from a pen!
Now there is our elder RJ
Sometimes he drops in round this way
And oh when he speaks, so eloquently neat
We just quiver and dither and sway
There’s a dancing girl called sweetie P
She’ll drop in and sit on ya knee
She’ll play for a while ; then wink knowing smile
And disappear – it’s a mysterer – y!
A grand piece of work there Gummy, credit where it’s due I always say.
I was trying to tempt you with that parable to give us a few yarns about when you were sowing your wild oats, but you didn’t fall for it, smart bugger.;-)
Talking about sticks, everytime I see T. May walking I think of the Praying Mantis, why is that I wonder?
Tut tut Spitz, you cannot say ‘fat’ anymore, the proper way to say that is “I was waiting for the rotund lady to sing” and if you were waiting for a skinny lady to sing you would say “I was waiting for the stick lady to sing” It’s nice to be nice you see.
Oh yes,Jem…I can see that working SO well, when a tired truck driver in a transport cafe asks for a brew and a bacon sandwich ‘‘with crispy rotund,please’’.
My arms reach out across the sea
First to Dublin, Jem to see
Around the world to the other side
Where the lovely Gummy may hide
Then I stretch to Spitty and Pug
Not far to go and give a hug
Young Robert though, I have no clue
He only posted about the loo
Along came Ciderman at last
Back around the globe, I better be fast
We come to share and laugh or cry
No need to ever wonder why
Dear Jem is our leader
No doubt about that
He leads from behind
Subduing peer spats
With gold embossed essays
He finds good in all
Like a colossus he stands
So straight and so tall
So don’t be restricted in your
Awesome epithets
His Val Doonecan manner
Hides a fine intellect
PS
I’ve added 2 lines so like Gum bud you have 14 lines too
You could almost say their sonnets & it’ll be quite true
Pom Gumbud our cheerleader
Is found often in the thick
Of the action dear reader
He don’t miss a trick
But don’t be fooled
By his faux dumbing down
He’s very well schooled
And he’s nobodies clown
Lifts me up when I am low
I don’t know how he always knows
We go back years and years
We are from the same Brit county
Swapping tales from old Hampshire
And the long forgotten bounty
Dear lady is known as the true Sweet Pea
She transcends the concept of mere beauty
Kind and thoughtful with a sharp cool mind
The info she brings it blows or mind
With wide-ranging interests, she wanders off
I secretly think her a genuine toff
My test for a toff is the old meat draw
If she knows what it is, a line can be drawn
She rallies the troops leaving no one out
London & Paris are home to her
Her deliberations lead us to concur
Where she came from I don’t know
But she is our angel I plead with her today
Never leave us or consider going away
The next on my list is a brain we admire
Hail succinct, sage & shaman known as Spitfire
Iconic, Ironic how can he be described
The greatest wordsmith, is here and alive
Prolific in his output, never one to avoid
Posting comments going straight to the carotid
He likes to get folks thinking it’s his finest forte
He’s a bit of a rascal, at the end of the day
I consider myself equal, but for one aspect
He fires from the hip, stuff you wouldn’t expect
All in all he’s a mystery I’ve said it before
Yes he’s a one in a lifetime, Enfant terrible
That all I have to say about this enigmatic chap
Who has really put old Warwick back in the centre of the map?
Pug is one of life’s precious gold nuggets
Part disguised as an old-time dummy chucker
I am not sure if that is a good example
But I think Pug will enjoy this ramble
Things are not always what they seem
Are there any left of places he’s not seen
Not many know he’s a polymath, reluctant?
There are few subjects that he’s not conversant
But his greatest knack is in his character
He seems to know what we are all after
We want to feel that we are fully alive
Maybe not of the same club/tribe
For that, I am eternally grateful
That I’ve encountered him Yea ‘ere fateful
Well there you are now, I just knew you wouldn’t let the side down on 10,000 day, albeit the day after, but what’s a day between friends.
Some very fine tributes paid in verse by the assembled talents of the scribbling vagabonds of this fine forum, and RJ you did yourself proud there my man, my fervent thanks to you all.
Words and numbers, a heady mix, in the old days, when I was put on the spot, I always pre-empted the situation, used a few words, then slipped a spreadsheet down the sleeve, that negated, the need for anymore words, shame because words take less effort than numbers.
I’m now taking Lady Jem our for drink and sing song up in the local, none of her sisters tonight, just herself and me, what joy, we’ll be joining a few neighbours no doubt, sure what good is being alive if you can’t live a little. See yis all tomorrow.
Why. thank you dearheart. I am humbled by your kindnesss and encouragement.
It appears that I am not yet for the over 70s scrapheap & can still pull the proverbial rabbit out of my hat.
