OK, I'm embarrassed, now. Just went over to the other poet's site and you guys are way over my head.
Dang! I'm just'a country boy passing out lil jewels I find t'whoever wants them while you two are the big guns (and the nypd boy fer sure probably has one, eh?) firing salvos of intellegencia at each other in the form of puns and innuendos.
Wow!
No, really. Very impressive. From now on, I'll keep m'silly lil whatchcallits to m'self.
well, after I share m'favorite, which I sing in the shower once and a while...
There was an old hermit named Dave, who kept a dead whore in his cave. She was moldy and green, and she smelled quite obscene... But, think of the money he saved!
Well, I must thank you, Percival. Even though my poems are full of either nonsense or just plain bull, it's always nice when I can pull a smile for something not always original.
The allusion to Don Quixote and Sancho Panza is making me crave sangria and tapas at 11pm. Can't we all just get along over some paella without having to duel? ;)
Paella is a typical Spanish dish and is traditionally cooked in a "paellera" - a round flat pan with two handles - which is then put on the table. It is normally made using shellfish but can also be made with chicken or rabbit. In many Spanish villages, especially in coastal areas, they use a giant paellera to cook a paella on festival days which is big enough to feed everybody.
ThursdayNext: Thank ye for thine succor and protection! I swat mine own brow and exfoliate!
DUH! But of course! This all had a familiarly allusive ring! Cosmo, Villain! If you be Don Quixote, then I would be what... a WINDMILL? A BLOCKHEAD? An ALTERNATIVE ENERGY SOURCE!?
Think better of mine energy, Slug, Lump, Lollabout, inert substance, and take this thrust and lose thee sleep: for my poeme, dashing, brilliant, is complete. It is precisely on-topic; including, for some reason, as the lady whimsically requires it, that "Lee" guy...
About that Lee... "What is he to Hecuba, or Hecuba to he?"
Okay you guys, the comments are more fun than the words that inspired them. However, the inspiring words are much more beautiful.
And for Boneman: Granny's in the celler, Oh, lordy, can't you smell her, Burning biscuts on her darned ol' dirty stove. In her eye there is a matter, That's drippin' in the batter, And she whistles as the snot rolls down her nose. Down her nose. Down her nose. And she whistles as the snot rolls down her nose.
I was taught that song at camp as a youngling. Then my table mates and I were all sent from the dining hall for choosing that song when called upon to "sing for our supper." How rude.
(You may now resume your normal culturally elevating activities.)
By way of explanation, I here reproduce a post left at the lovely Mayden's site:
Oh Maiden, please forgive me. I was caught in a devilishly tight corner.
Having honour bound yourself to devote your not inconsiderable affections solely on the winner of this joust, you put great pressures on me. Should I win, I would be blissfully happy but should the unthinkable occur not only would I be desolate but you, poor dear, would be in the clutches of the devious Sir Percy. This is an awesome and heavy responsibility.
I have therefore withdrawn from the contest. This does not mean Sir Percy has won, THAT matter is undecided. It means that the obligation is removed from you to accept the winner unconditionally and that you can accept or reject Sir Percy purely on his merits; should you ultimately find that he has some.
It was not an easy decision, fair maiden, but one done with your best interests at heart.
I will, of course, keep your handkerchief next to mine.
Cosmo has the hankie, Percy, he has naught; Nea's left without the poo, And we're left with the thought That chivalry is not dead yet, Though Mayden stranded be, And all of us who waiting long? No clever rhyme of Lee.
Sir Cosmo - I fear you may badly miscalculate. The duel was only for purposes of a long term relationship with the Mayden - of one month's duration.
If you decline to return fire, you run the grave risk that my Cupid's arrow will find her heart for all time.
Lee: No, the poem can't be just about you. Geesh...
Johnny - We're all fond of tulgey. My increasingly obscure vocabulary of late derives from the poem, "Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll, which you can Google.
Pauline - I have read your remarks and am resolved not to disappoint all who clamor for great art, or at the very least, doggerel, in a lost and profaned world. Therefore I shall manfully post poesy by Mayden's rules - on Fidelity, with desultory ramblings, for some reason, about Lee Kennedy - of Monday next, upon mine own blog.
I EXHORT COSMO TO PROTECT HIS HONOR AND DO THE SAME. I ALSO WILL TAKE CHALLENGES FROM ALL QUARTERS FOR POESY WRITTEN ON THIS TOPIC SUBLIME WHICH TRULY MERITS IMMORTALIZATION IN VERSE; BESIDES WHICH I ALREADY BOTHERED WRITING MY POEM, SO SOMEBODY HELP ME OUT HERE.
As a beauty, I'm no star
ReplyDeleteThere are others more beautiful by far
but, my face I don't mind it
because I'm behind it
It's the folks in front that I jar.
OK, I'm embarrassed, now. Just went over to the other poet's site and you guys are way over my head.
ReplyDeleteDang! I'm just'a country boy passing out lil jewels I find t'whoever wants them while you two are the big guns (and the nypd boy fer sure probably has one, eh?) firing salvos of intellegencia at each other in the form of puns and innuendos.
Wow!
No, really. Very impressive.
From now on, I'll keep m'silly lil whatchcallits to m'self.
well, after I share m'favorite, which I sing in the shower once and a while...
ReplyDeleteThere was an old hermit named Dave,
who kept a dead whore in his cave.
She was moldy and green,
and she smelled quite obscene...
But, think of the money he saved!
Boneman, please, do not think of withholding your songs. They are folksy and yet Gothic and Baroquesy as well.
ReplyDeleteWell, I must thank you, Percival.
ReplyDeleteEven though my poems are full of either nonsense or just plain bull, it's always nice when I can pull a smile for something not always original.
Where are you???
ReplyDeleteDid you get my handkerchief?
Will I see you at Sunset or not?
Consider me, a maiden in waiting...
Um...I'm not sure I get this.
ReplyDeleteWell, really, that's not true. I really don't get it.
But, I will be the first to admit, I can be as thick as fog in london.
So, forgive me if I can't leave a witty comment, wit is not my forte. And, no, you don't get to keep the horse!
I suspect you have not read The Challenge, no? Do so now and all will be clear for you.
ReplyDeletedoes this mean i don't get the horse?
ReplyDeletesurely that is a man with a one track mind..
Soooo- I must choose?
ReplyDeleteNo more words?
And I feel certain there are many things inside of you yet to share...
"Sigh"-
You know I will think of you all night because of this, don't you?
You are far more crafty than I imagined...
;) I am pondering~
Schaumi, I'd say that's more of a racetrack mind.
ReplyDelete*X ducks*
I must admit, Sir J., that I don't quite get the horse joke either.
The allusion to Don Quixote and Sancho Panza is making me crave sangria and tapas at 11pm. Can't we all just get along over some paella without having to duel? ;)
ReplyDeletePaella sounds good.
ReplyDeletex.dell: You need to read The Challenge, a few postings earlier in the blog. Then the horse joke makes sense.
I see. Sancho's talking
ReplyDeleteSi.
ReplyDeleteNo, it was a unicorn and one day in a life to come it will fly away to reclaim it's freedom.
ReplyDeletePaella is a typical Spanish dish and is traditionally cooked in a "paellera" - a round flat pan with two handles - which is then put on the table. It is normally made using shellfish but can also be made with chicken or rabbit. In many Spanish villages, especially in coastal areas, they use a giant paellera to cook a paella on festival days which is big enough to feed everybody.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.epicurious.com/
\recipes/recipe_views/
views/2027
i love paella....
ReplyDeletelet's eat!
but i'm not cooking or cleaning up....
no, but I bet you could have the manure.
ReplyDeleteThursdayNext: Thank ye for thine succor and protection! I swat mine own brow and exfoliate!
ReplyDeleteDUH! But of course! This all had a familiarly allusive ring! Cosmo, Villain! If you be Don Quixote, then I would be what... a WINDMILL? A BLOCKHEAD? An
ALTERNATIVE ENERGY SOURCE!?
Think better of mine energy, Slug, Lump, Lollabout, inert substance, and take this thrust and lose thee sleep: for my poeme, dashing, brilliant, is complete. It is precisely on-topic; including, for some reason, as the lady whimsically requires it, that "Lee" guy...
About that Lee... "What is he to Hecuba, or Hecuba to he?"
The game is yours, Sir Percy.
ReplyDeletePublish and be dame-ed!
Then I must needs find another Challenger... Till then I must withhold my fire, or risk shooting mine own foot.
ReplyDeleteLee??
Boneman?
Yet truly, Sir Cosmo, before I met thee, ne'r spied I so manxsome nor frumious a verbal foe.
Now it seems I must stand awhile in uffish thought, resting by the proverbial Tumtum tree...
Okay you guys, the comments are more fun than the words that inspired them. However, the inspiring words are much more beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAnd for Boneman:
Granny's in the celler,
Oh, lordy, can't you smell her,
Burning biscuts on her darned ol' dirty stove.
In her eye there is a matter,
That's drippin' in the batter,
And she whistles as the snot rolls down her nose.
Down her nose. Down her nose.
And she whistles as the snot rolls down her nose.
I was taught that song at camp as a youngling. Then my table mates and I were all sent from the dining hall for choosing that song when called upon to "sing for our supper." How rude.
(You may now resume your normal culturally elevating activities.)
Percival, I thank you. Chivalrous words, well received.
ReplyDeleteBy way of explanation, I here reproduce a post left at the lovely Mayden's site:
ReplyDeleteOh Maiden, please forgive me. I was caught in a devilishly tight corner.
Having honour bound yourself to devote your not inconsiderable affections solely on the winner of this joust, you put great pressures on me. Should I win, I would be blissfully happy but should the unthinkable occur not only would I be desolate but you, poor dear, would be in the clutches of the devious Sir Percy. This is an awesome and heavy responsibility.
I have therefore withdrawn from the contest. This does not mean Sir Percy has won, THAT matter is undecided. It means that the obligation is removed from you to accept the winner unconditionally and that you can accept or reject Sir Percy purely on his merits; should you ultimately find that he has some.
It was not an easy decision, fair maiden, but one done with your best interests at heart.
I will, of course, keep your handkerchief next to mine.
Cosmo.
manxsome, frumious, uffish..
ReplyDeleteYou'll be driving Nea to the dictionary again.
And don't forget tulgey, I'm quite fond of tulgey.
Cosmo has the hankie,
ReplyDeletePercy, he has naught;
Nea's left without the poo,
And we're left with the thought
That chivalry is not dead yet,
Though Mayden stranded be,
And all of us who waiting long?
No clever rhyme of Lee.
Alas.
Sir Cosmo - I fear you may badly miscalculate. The duel was only for purposes of a long term relationship with the Mayden - of one month's duration.
ReplyDeleteIf you decline to return fire, you run the grave risk that my Cupid's arrow will find her heart for all time.
Lee: No, the poem can't be just about you. Geesh...
Johnny - We're all fond of tulgey. My increasingly obscure vocabulary of late derives from the poem, "Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll, which you can Google.
Pauline - I have read your remarks and am resolved not to disappoint all who clamor for great art, or at the very least, doggerel, in a lost and profaned world. Therefore I shall manfully post poesy by Mayden's rules - on Fidelity, with desultory ramblings, for some reason, about Lee Kennedy - of Monday next, upon mine own blog.
I EXHORT COSMO TO PROTECT HIS HONOR AND DO THE SAME. I ALSO WILL TAKE CHALLENGES FROM ALL QUARTERS FOR POESY WRITTEN ON THIS TOPIC SUBLIME WHICH TRULY MERITS IMMORTALIZATION IN VERSE; BESIDES WHICH I ALREADY BOTHERED WRITING MY POEM, SO SOMEBODY HELP ME OUT HERE.
Dearest Mr Newbery,
ReplyDeleteThere is something for you to gaze upon at MV- don't delay. I need you :)
-Cora
Percy, am I to understand that you are, in effect, auctioning Mayden to the highest bidder? Or better poet?
ReplyDelete