There was a young lady called Jane
Who boarded the wrong train.
She jumped off in a huff
Yelling “I have had enough
And I can’t stand the rain!”.
There was a young lady called Jane
Who boarded the wrong train.
She jumped off in a huff
Which was really quite tough
On account of the moving train!
“Wait here!” he said, his hands clenching and unclenching as he strode towards the door. There was a crash and he was out in the open air.
He rushed down the garden path and, wrenching open the tool shed door, grabbed several thick bamboo canes and, not bothering to close it behind him, hurried back to the building where the objects of his ire awaited his return.
He found that thin canes had no lasting effect. What was needed was real discipline and he was determined that, come hell or high water those ungrateful offspring he had so carefully nurtured would behave.
“I’ve warned you until I’m blue in the face but you won’t listen! All the love and care I’ve devoted to you and you repay me by slouching on the ground like that. Right, here goes” he said brandishing the thick bundle of bamboo. Bending down he grasped one of the many large plants which had become detached from the frame which had, hitherto held them in place …
There was a young lady called Samantha
Who owned a large pet panther.
It fed on fish
And a dainty dish
That went by the name of Samantha
There was a young lady called Lou
Who said “I shall thwart you”.
But ere long
She changed her song,
That capricious young lady called Lou!
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/thwart/).
I am very excited to be here, on the wonderful blog of poet extraordinaire Kevin Morris, to share with you the news that the third book in the PorterGirl series is here! Sinister Dexter takes us once again to Old College, where things are never quite as they seem, even when they are.
After avoiding the murderous intentions of The Vicious Circle in First Lady Of The Keys and risking life and limb to find a priceless missing painting in The Vanishing Lord, our heroine Deputy Head Porter finds herself once again at the centre of strange and macabre goings-on in the notorious Old College.
One of the oldest and most illustrious educational establishments in the country, Old College boats a bloody and turbulent 400 year old history and the arrival of its first female Deputy Head Porter has done little to calm matters. If anything, it’s made them worse.
We join Deputy Head Porter at the beginning of a new academic year where the induction of a new Bursar – the enigmatic Professor Dexter Sinistrov – causes ructions. With his first act of office being to cut the tea and biscuit budget for the Porters’ Lodge, he makes himself instantly unpopular with the bowler-hatted staff within. But it is more his penchant for poisoning people that really concerns Deputy Head Porter.
Meanwhile, Head Porter appears to be leading a secret double life and The Dean is convinced that Russian spies are after his job. When two dead bodies turn up at the bottom of the College gardens, Deputy Head Porter is determined that there will not be another College cover-up, even if that does mean begrudgingly working alongside unwelcome outsiders DCI Thompson and DS Kirby. Add to that a wayward College drinking society and an ageing Lothario of a professor and Deputy Head Porter really does have her hands full.
Sometimes the opposite of right isn’t wrong. It’s left.
Tragedy strikes once more at Old College… The Porters’ Lodge is down to its last tea bag and no one has seen a biscuit for over a week. Almost as troubling are the two dead bodies at the bottom of the College gardens and a woman has gone missing. The Dean is convinced that occult machinations are to blame, Deputy Head Porter suspects something closer to home.
The formidable DCI Thompson refuses to be sidelined and a rather unpleasant Professor gets his comeuppance.
As the body count rises, Head Porter tries to live a secret double life and The Dean believes his job is under threat from the Russian Secret Service.
Deputy Head Porter finds herself with her hands full keeping Old College running smoothly as well as defending herself against the sinister intentions of the new Bursar.
Spies, poisoning, murder – and none of this would be any problem at all, if only someone would get the biscuits out and put the kettle on…
This is the third instalment of the world-renowned PorterGirl series set in the ancient and esoteric Old College. Author Lucy Brazier opens the lid on a world which has sinister overtones in this cozy, BritLit mystery.
There was a young lady called Fay
Who liked to say “haul away”.
So while out on a boat
In the middle of a moat
I hauled her overboard one day.
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/haul/).
There was a young man called Coarse
Who rode a moral high horse.
I did hear tell
How one day he fell.
The people laughed of course.
I am no poet, for when,
At 10 AM
Men
Of letters drink beer
You will see
A sight most queer,
Namely me
Drinking tea
Or coffee,
So how can I a poet be?!
At 3 AM
When
Men
Of poetry are kept awake
By young ladies of ill repute,
There can be
No dispute
That you will find me
(Unbound)
Locked In the arms of sleep
Profound,
‘Tis enough to make me weep!
So while others get drunk
As the proverbial scunk
I shall sip my coffee
Or tea
And studiously avoid poetry …
There was a man called Lear
Who composed a limerick most queer.
When I asked him “why?”
He made no reply.
Lear is dead I fear.
—
The Lear in the above limerick is, of course Edward Lear, the composer of “The Owl And The Pussycat” and numerous other nonsense verses and limericks, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Lear.
There was a seagull called Mark
Who lived in my local park.
He ate nothing but bread
And was terribly overfed,
That lazy seagull called Mark!
K Morris - Poet 