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to dance
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or dine
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accompanied by
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a porcupine.
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Burma Shave
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The Thunder God went for a ride upon his favourite filly.
“I’m Thor!” he cried; the horse replied
“You forgot your thaddle, thilly.”
You make me laugh almost as much as The Earl of Poncey!
I really should change my moniker given everyone else is a prince, emperor. Viscount etc.
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The Thunder God went for a ride upon his favourite filly.
“I’m Thor!” he cried; the horse replied
“You forgot your thaddle, thilly.”
You make me laugh almost as much as The Earl of Poncey!
I really should change my moniker given everyone else is a prince, emperor. Viscount etc.
Take your pick:
The Earl of Poncey
Billy-Bob
Cheeseburger Bill
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I think i prefer Earl of poncey to the other two.
Billy bob just reminds me of the fat sheriffs cousin in live n let die! Lol
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I think i prefer Earl of poncey to the other two.
Billy bob just reminds me of the fat sheriffs cousin in live n let die! Lol
Plus it's got an ounce of class.
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Tomorrow, tomorrow!
Poetry month again.
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Tomorrow, tomorrow!
Poetry month again.
For what it may imply
I spilled soup on my fly
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Tomorrow, tomorrow!
Poetry month again.
For what it may imply
I spilled soup on my fly
And though it wasn't hot
It really singed the spot
Left a mark and made me cry.
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Some REAL poetry!
Conversation is but carving!
Give no more to every guest
Than he's able to digest.
Give him always of the prime,
And but little at a time.
Carve to all but just enough,
Let them neither starve nor stuff,
And that you may have your due,
Let your neighbor carve for you.
Jonathan Swift
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Heh, I missed Prince Dam's reply to my fly. My name even appears!
OK, now onto business...women:
From the geyser ventilators
Autumn winds are blowing down
On a thousand business women
Having baths in Camden Town
Waste pipes chuckle into runnels,
Steam's escaping here and there,
Morning trains through Camden cutting
Shake the Crescent and the Square.
Early nip of changeful autumn,
Dahlias glimpsed through garden doors,
At the back precarious bathrooms
Jutting out from upper floors;
And behind their frail partitions
Business women lie and soak,
Seeing through the draughty skylight
Flying clouds and railway smoke.
Rest you there, poor unbelov'd ones,
Lap your loneliness in heat.
All too soon the tiny breakfast,
Trolley-bus and windy street!
-- John Betjeman
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