Just a little set of amuse-bouches – of hastily-scribbled, reasonably relevant, limericks… – to celebrate four years of blogging! (Photo courtesy of the wonderful people at Dr C P Grey Opticians.)
Read ’em and weep
The Bard of the village of Tysoe
Did wonder and worry just why so
Few views were logged
Of the words he had blogged
The paucity making him cry so
Hot off the press
There once was a brilliant Bard
Who typed so exceedingly hard
That his fingers were numb
(As was his poor bum)
And the keyboard he hammered was charred
Did Cicero say anything?
The Orchestra’s Writer-in-Residence
Loves using his words to set precedence
With notes so unique
They could well be in Greek
Ή ακόμα και για τους γούνιους ελέφαντες†
Word cloud
Four years of writing his blog
Had turned the poor Bard’s brain to fog
His ideas were rusty
His thoughts somewhat fusty
And his mind smelled of nothing but smog
Rhyme nor reason
When writing a bundle of limericks
You resort to such odd rhymes as “fiddlesticks”
When you get to the end
It is hard not to spend
Several hours wishing you really hadn’t…
Ink and drink
When writing artistic reviews
The Bard often nips at the booze
This makes him productive
His crits more constructive
And it easier, when finished, to snooze
When the midden…
When designing a neighbourhood plan
You should constantly carry the can
So don’t propose mews
That will ruin our views
Or the sh!t will soon wallop the fan
…hits the windmill
On the top of the hill sits a mill
Which gives all us locals a thrill
Its belongs, though, to Spenny
(One of few, not of many)
The reason it always stands still
Raise the roof
It’s nearly the time for Messiah
With trumpets and drums and a choir
Inside Holy Trinity
Immersed in divinity
And topped with a tall, pointy spire
Amen to that!
We shall all stand, of course, for the chorus
As King George may’ve done well before us
Hallelujah, they sing
On a prayer and a wing
The result, we hope, being sonorous
†Or even about furry elephants…
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