There was a young lady named Rose
Who painted all of her toes.
She wore thick socks,
Which acted as locks,
So I have never seen her toes!
—
There was a young lady named Rose
Who painted 5 of her toes.
She left the remainder unvarnished.
Her reputation got tarnished,
As to why? Nobody knows!
—
There was a young lady named Rose
Who painted her fingers and toes.
She painted them black
But she did lack
Enough to varnish her nose!
As I neared my home yesterday evening, a man called out from the other side of the road, “Do you have a light, please?”
“No, sorry”, I replied and continued on my way home.
As I walked on, I heard the voice of a young woman, “no, don’t, it’s a blind dog!”
Being registerd blind, I wondered what the point would be of me having a “blind dog”. One hears of the blind leading the blind. However, I, having no desire to become intimately connected with a telegraph pole or other such obstacle will stick with my trusty guide dog, Trigger!
The above occurance is far from being an isolated one. Indeed I have lost count of the number of occasions on which people have refered to my guide dogs (I am now working with my fourth) as “blind dogs”. My heart goes out to all those visually challenged dogs manfully leading their owners to who knows where. A medal should be struck in their honour and, of course the blind who entrust themselves to these fine animals should also be honoured for their … bravery!
To be serious for a moment, the evening was dark and the panic in the young woman’s voice made me conjecture (perhaps in error) that her companion might have been up to no good and, seeing that I was accompanied by a guide dog the lady’s conscience kicked in. As I say, I could be barking up entirely the wrong tree here. I was, nonetheless extremely glad to reach home yesterday evening.
As I walked through the churchyard this morning, I passed by a teenager on her mobile. As I did so, I couldn’t help overhearing the following gem:
“You made me run, with my legs up a hill”.
I wondered idly to myself, “how else would one run, other than by using one’s legs?”
There was a young man named Round
Who owned a lugubrious hound.
Its name was Bill.
They lived on a hill
And this limerick says nothing profound!
Rising at 6 am
I take up my virtual pen.
Then I see
Staring at me
The sandwich wrapper from yesterday.
Ah the romance of a writer’s life.
Had I a wife
She would clear that away,
Or more likely say
In a manner most sweet
“You throw away what you eat
My dearest love
For you are not above
Taking a trip to yonder bin.
Therein
You will discover abandoned schemes
And broken dreams”.
There was a young man named Paul
Who drove his mistress up the wall.
He talked about his dear wife Jane
(Which caused his lover to complain),
So soon he had no mistress at all!
There was a young lady named Holly
Who was extremely plump and jolly.
We met at night
And to my delight
She led me into folly …
There was a young man named Nick
Who purchased a rain stick.
He danced about
And made great shout,
But it failed to rain on Nick!
—
There was a young man named Nick
Who purchased a rain stick.
He raised it high
Unto the sky
But it failed to rain on Nick!
—
There was a young man named Nick
Who purchased a rain stick.
When it failed to rain
He didn’t complain
But bought another stick!
Shall I write
To delight
My reader’s a stream of consciousness piece?
Or should I cease
My screed?
For there is no need
To take up their valuable time
With my rhyme
Which goes,
As the river flows
Down to the sea.
I am lost in the ocean
My words a mere commotion
Which (as the bard now dead
So rightly said)
Is “a tale told by an idiot signifying nothing”.
“Macbeth”, or should I say
“The Scottish Play”
Is full of words cleverly stitched together,
With witches and stormy weather
Playing their part.
The dagger in Duncan’s heart
Brought Macbeth and his wife to perdition.
Ambition
Brought him low
As those who study Shakespeare know.
Should I go
On with this rhyme
Wasting time
Forever spinning
To keep my mind off sinning,
Which, of course I never do,
For you
Are aware
I dare
Say
That I am honest as the day
Is long. In fact a plaster saint am I
And when I die
I shall to heaven go,
Or perhaps somewhere below
Where all my desire
Shall end in fire …!
There was a young lady named Alice
Who lived in Crystal Palace.
She broke the law
At halfpast four
And ran away to Dallas!
