Trolls & Moths

tome

tome

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Suspect it's an oasis in a desert of internet boredom here for some, like moths round a flickering candle they are attracted to the forum

Which reminds me of a poem by my late Uncle Gerry

The Moth

With swirling swoop and joyfull roll,
Out of the midnight damp,
The moth achieves its simple goal
And joins me round my lamp

Poor feckless nomad of the night,
Felllow insomniac,
Who flaunts no sting, no venomed bite,
Would I could claim thy lack

Ah fleeting, fey, nocturnal wraith,
Thy wild ecstatic flight
Doth make me wish for your blind faith
In searching for the light

Gerard Hamill, 1911 - 1995
 
Good fer yer Uncle - shame none of his wit, wisdom and delightful poetry ever transcended tae his nephew.
Hoos yer mither settlin in - ah've no made it fer ma tea yet, but Jings ah do believe this is the year when ah'll be samplin her finest PG an Scones. Wid ye tell her ah've a soft spot fer strawberry jam oan ma scones?

Not, of course tae leave oot ra missus - how is the fair wee thing?
 
Re: Trolls & Moths

He was a witty man of Irish descent and colourful history, a regular contributor to Punch magazine and a hero to me. Not least as he 'taught' me to drink pints of ale during my many visits

Mither is doing well, though I note she's in warmer climes jes noo. Last I heard she was scaling the Golan heights and knocking heids together. I'm told I should try not to worry about her. She's still sore with yoose after she prepared tea and scones last year and yer didnae show

The fair missus is well and about to depart for a week leaving me to fend for myself. Toilet seat will be in the up position until next Friday evening

And how's the fair Mrs Claymore? Wee hen, such a shame fer her
 
Re: Trolls & Moths

I have a favourite poem of his which is about Christmas. If you remember, prompt me nearer the time
 
Re: Trolls & Moths

Oh alright then, Christmas by Uncle Gerry

Our Christmas guests got tight on gin.
'Oh God', I said and God said, 'Yes?'
Which rather put me in a spin
For I was tongue tied more or less

I blurted out, 'The weather's warm
With Christmas Eve already here'
He said, 'Yes hardly true to form'
I said, 'We'll pay for it, I fear'

'Ah well' He sighed, 'I must get on,
But thanks for sparing time to chat'
I should have mentioned Christ His Son
But He had gone and that was that

Gerard Hamill 1911 - 1995
 
Re: Trolls & Moths

Vaguely recall that Guiness had upset him somewhere along his colourful path

It was every ale we could find whilst wndering around Jesus Common
 
Re: Trolls & Moths

The Drunk

With swirling swoop and joyfull roll,
Out of the midnight damp,
The drunk achieves his simple goal
getting to the kebab van

Poor fecking nomad of the night,
intrepid dipsomaniac,
Who falls no bruise, squinting sight,
flat on thy back

Ah fleeting, fey, nocturnal wraith,
Thy wild ecstatic plight
Doth make me wish for your blind faith
In searching for a pint
 
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