So autumn comes to southern climes:
bid farewell now to summer,
the best of times. The worst of times?
When fingers get much number.
Dog days are the really hot days of summer when Sirius the ‘dog star’ briefly appears before the sun dawns in the northern hemisphere. Doggerel days can be at any other time
This piece of doggerel was inspired by a post on the blog Gert Loveday’s Fun with Books.
Catch a falling star, put it in your pocket.
It won’t take you far: for that you’ll need a rocket.
Blast off into space, spaceman that you are. Just
don’t fall, in that case, right back to earth as stardust
Or I’ll catch a falling star …
Winter comes but once a year
Days of darkness soon to bring
Weather cold and storms so drear
Blessed respite brought by spring
But too soon it then gets hot
Summer days we’re bathed in sweat
Autumn’s next as like as not
Mists and storms to make us wet
Now it’s bloody winter come
Starts the cycle once again
Constant change, my brain’s gone numb
Each new season’s such a pain
If ever forced to try out swordplay
I’d fail to be a Cyrano.
And as for impro wordplay,
expecting puns? Oh, sirrah, no!
Clash of steel best fitting crossed swords
(whether epées, foils or rapiers),
flash of real wit suiting crosswords
(often met in broadsheet papers):
all would go from bad to worse
(same as when I’m writing verse).
I’m as like to win a duel as
write a gem fit for a jeweller’s.
Tumour fame, Al!
Abe, Ian, shut a door.
Keller ate eel? Eel? Ace sank her.
Sand ferry Ann. Ah, Bea — and tow!
________ Continue reading
ay, en, oh,
how you go
me, fah, soh
lah, tea, doh
Domino sounds his
Poulenc pounds a
Practise now our
A B C
Twenty scales be
fore high tea
Come read me my riddle
Sing hickory dickory dock
For down came a spider
A gossamer glider
And landed on Bo Peep’s blue frock
This creature so lowly
She brushed off real slowly
Then played on her didgeridoo
She charmed not just creatures
But parsons and preachers
Who featured in France’s Who’s Who
Her sheep were not fazed
For they grew fat and grazed
Till a wolf with a weasely grin
Slipped the sheep, plus a goat,
Past his jaws down his throat,
By the hairs on his chinny chin chin
The spider then teased
The old wolf till he sneezed
Who then coughed up sheep, plus the goat,
And a cat with a fiddle, a rope round its middle,
Attached to a lifebelt and boat
So now ends my riddle
Puss played on its fiddle
And Bo Peep her didgeridoo
I hope you find pleasing
My rhyme without reason
Au revoir, tally ho, toodle-oo!
Close-up of grotesque in Thwaite church, Suffolk
Yah boo! said the yahoo,
the boho yobbo hobo,
whose hobby is playing on the oboe
(though he can’t tell his arse from his elbow)
which he plays all day in Soho
while they film it all in slo-mo
Death unto me thou Warning gave
But sent me sudden to my Grave;
Therefore prepare without delay
For no one knows his dying day
Epitaph, Llangattock church, Powys
three score years alive
but to die on Christmas Day
when birth’s on all minds!
Our Blessed Lord so full of love
An angel bright did send
To come and fetch this little child
To Joy that never ends
Epitaph, Llangattock church, Powys
Mary Moses, but think on
Philip’s missing joy
Christmas comes but once a year
Lots of gifts for girls and boys
Presents brought from far and near
Books and games and food and toys
Must we shop until we drop?
Must we spend in search of fun?
Who is brave enough to stop
The madness, when all’s said and done?
Keep it simple, keep it calm,
Keep it low-key, yes, that’s right!
If you wish to do least harm
Do shop local. So, good night!
The Canada goose likes to wander
To sites far from way over yonder
From seas off Newfoundland to Europe it’s bound and
Once here looks for stream, lake and pond.
Er, why leave lands to fly over water?
It’s water that ought to support her!
It’s proved of great use as resource for the goose
And also resource for the gander.
But I’m told there’s no need to migrate:
We’ve long known that it’s grass that they ate.
Where there’s grass there is home — there’s no reason to roam —
Just a spot to go eat, swim, laze and mate.
Canada geese with goslings, Great Chesterford, Essex
Beginning with this post the blog features a short series of posts about birds, many of them reposts. A few subsequent reposts will cover a period of house-moving: normal service will be resumed as soon as possible!