An ode to Para

claymore

claymore

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There's a red-eyed grey haired idle
On the road fae Enbra toon
A raggy grizzly sicht an thats fer sure
An he mumbles as he thinks and he dribbles as he drinks
An gies a good impression o' bein poor.

He was loved amang the ranks
fer his daft outrageous pranks
like sleepin on the london underground
wi a table made o teak bought cheap wi all his cheek
An Para proud tae save a few odd pounds.

Wan day in Tobermory
A feller in a dory
Parted Para frae his favourite tenner in a flash
Though he grumbled and he groaned
Said twas the last wan that he owned
He wiz always doomed tae lose that bit o cash.

Wee Jamesie had a ruse
Whilst on that Chentleman's Cruise
Said he'd reunite yon Para wi his cash
But the caulie was abrewing and proved wee Jim's undoing
Whilst Para polished aff the neeps and mash.

So there's a red eyed potless prankster
Wha'll nivver mak a gangster
A big daft scaldie so he is but nae sae bad
An noo the crowning glory tae this short protracted story
Is the fact that Para will very very soon be called Grandad.
 
Ahem (clears throat)

'Todka'

As usual on this tub
It was 'turns' to cook the grub
Para said 'Nae sweat - I'll mak a pie'
So he rustled up a dish
Out of spuds and prawns - and fish
Which he'd caught whilst out....shopping nearby

When the radome left the mast
He said 'Skipper,' (rather fast)
'I'll don the bosun's chair and go on high'
Then shouted down, 'Some'ts wrong
It's not a chair, more like a thong
I can't see - I've got tears in me eye.'

So if you are on a cruise
Bent on sailing, pool or booze
And you're anchored (!) somewhere nice and warm and sandy
If your boat is grey - or green
And your mates are all has-been
You might do worse for crew than - Parahandy
 
and in the morning

MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,
That thou, geen faced Dryad of the seas,
In some melodious bunk
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of anytyhing in full-throated ease.

O for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,
Tasting of hops and the country-green,
Dance, and bagpipe, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South!
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And curry-stainèd mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the darkest room:
 
Re: and in the morning

Never was bestowed such an art
Upon the tuning of a fart.
Downe came grave auntient John Sadler
And redd his message in his booke.
Fearie well, Quoth Claysie MAisie oh, Soe:
But HLB cry'd Noe.
Up starts one fuller of devotion
The Eloquence; and said a very ill motion
Not soe neither quoth Mr TCM
The Motion was good; but for the stincking
Well quoth Stugeron Steve it was a bold tricke
To Fart in the nose of the bodie scuttlebutt
Indeed I confesse quoth daddie Kilter
The matter of it selfe was somewhat uncivill
Thanke God quoth Sir Tome of Emsworth
That this Fart proved not a Turdd
 
Re: and in the morning

I did Chaucer's Canterbury Tales for O level English Literature but am struggling to remember - was this take from the prologue?
 
Re: and in the morning

[ QUOTE ]
I did Chaucer's Canterbury Tales for O level English Literature but am struggling to remember - was this take from the prologue?

[/ QUOTE ]

Was'nt it modern english literature then?
 
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