(To the tune of the Teddybear's Picnic)
If your life is in shades of grey
You're sure of a big surprise.
If your life is in shades of grey
It could to be otherwise.
For ev’ry colour that ever there was
Is celebrating today because
They love the way the
The Bluesmama paints the pumphouse.
Bits of stuff stacked everywhere
In need of a coat today.
There's lots of marvellous stuff to paint
And squidgey things of clay.
Beneath the eaves where nobody sees
There’s Myrtle the Turtle with painted knees
'Cause that's the way the
The Bluesmama does the pumphouse.
If your life is in shades of grey
You'd better not go alone!
It's lovely down in the shed today,
But hardly monochrome.
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© J Cosmo Newbery
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ReplyDeleteI'm not happy with the third verse; but then I didn't like the third verse in the original either.
ReplyDeleteI stood on the shore,
ReplyDeleteAnd thought of you-
Is he tall?
Are his eyes blue?
Is he over the ocean,
Or somewhere close by?
I was touched by his poem-
About a butterfly...
And what does it matter,
Where he resides?
As long as his words,
Rush in like the tide-
And right then I knew-
As I should from the start...
His prose was nearby-
In the beat of my heart.
Nothing compared to you- but if the verses come, I guess you have the misfortune of having to read them!
-Groupie :) LOL! :)
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ReplyDeleteCrank out?
ReplyDeleteCareful, you'll make me cranky.
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ReplyDeleteAh, in the world of Chez Newbery, to crank something out is like winding a mincer to turn out sausages. Having taken young Percival to task for similar indiscretions I feel obliged, in the spirit of fairness, to address this. We Newbery's do not crank or churn, we craft. There, it is out; I feel better now.
ReplyDeleteMayden, I am remiss; I have not thanked you for your kind words and verse. Please, no comparisons.
ReplyDeleteWhat gave me comfort to press on was the following quote: "Use the talents you possess, for the woods would be a very silent place if no birds sang except the best." - Henry Van Dyke.
I am by no means the best, but I happily sing in the chorus.
Speaking of singing, I didn't go to well trying to sing it, all my fault, I forgot the original bits, but it's lovely all the way.
ReplyDeleteDear Mr. Newbery,
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your lovely poem; it's been a difficult morning for me (my Mom died on this day a few years ago) and I came in to find this, she would have laughed at it and loved to sing it, although tunefulness was not one of her many fine qualities. It made me smile, and now I feel quite a bit less weary and sad, and I think in celebration of life in general (and lovely surprises in particular) I will go to the pumphouse (which is quite flattered at being immortalized in verse so cleverly) to paint something blue.
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ReplyDeleteNay Fair Mayden
ReplyDeleteI stood on the shore,
I saw him just once,
His height was quite short
His shoulders were slumped.
He sleeps on the beach
Or somewhere close by
Cops touch his shoulder -
"It's us again - Hi..."
And what does it matter,
Where he resides,
As long as he loiters
Truth bids me confide
All that I know
And you should know too
He's no good for you Mayden
And Percy must do.
Our misfortune to read it, Percy.
ReplyDeletePercy~
ReplyDeleteYou "do" beautifully...and yet~
We are sometimes fooled by a Prince in rags...or by a King dressed as a servant. At least all the fairy tales tell us so-
I can not see the heart of a man,
but his words betray him- or reveal the splendor of his soul.
Wit, charm, talent, love- these things can be dressed poorly...just as if the statue of King David were to be clothed- shameful as it might seem, it would not change the breath-taking structure of the statue.
I am torn- and smitten...and as I replied at your blog- Tempting fate :)
You are entirely welcome, Bluesmama.
ReplyDelete