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Give it up Max (Free verse) by Stephen Robins Bury your beard in your hands,
And your chisel in your face,
Face up to facts,
Your behaviour's not ace.
You've upset poor Dovina,
Whose had problems enough,
Without you blundering around,
On her broken muff.
You try to be all folksy,
With your use of "cute" and "critter",
But underneath your beard,
It's clear you take it up the shitter.
Up the ladder:
late night delirium
Down the ladder:
plugs
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 5.3333335
Posted: January 18, 2007 5:08 AM PST; Last modified: January 19, 2007 7:39 AM PSTWeighted score: 5.0397344 Overall Rank: 7121 Comments:
His behaviorâs not ace
Nor is his face He tugged on my muff But itâs sturdy enough Whatâs amazing to me Is he canât find his 3.
He can't see his three,
As it lies under thee, He possess no strength, To search you at length, Surveying your scribblings, And incessant quibblings, To find number three, Would break him or me.
Nay, but the three is not hidden
Nor under my skirt, ridden He possesses no strength And could find it at length With ten thousand poems Even more.
I don't know to whom you refer with "cute critters"; but rhyming shitter with it is very fine indeed. And well worthy of a 6.
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I have a David Gower-based poem in production for you.
Examine the weight of his willow,
He'll soon be whacking his balls,
Whilst your biting hard on your pillow.
Oh, the things one learns because of the 'ranker. From Wikipedia: "Gower was an elegant left hand batsmen and has a reputation for being aloof, perhaps because of his privately educated background and upper-class accent and manner . . . Its [sic] also worth mentioning that David Gower has been immortalised in cockney rhyming slang as the term "shower" - e.g. 'I'm feeling a bit rank, i'm off for a david, where I'll strip me willow'." (Okay, I added that last bit about the willow.)
Dream Gower (sonnet) by Ranger
Shall I compare thee to a morning's play?
When England open first on Lords' fine ground
And Aussies o'er the world watch in dismay
As fifties! hundreds! double tons abound
With front foot forward - front knee bent, the click
Of willow meeting leather brings a cheer
Then when the ball's pitched short, a subtle flick
Shall bring four more! The bound'ry swiftly cleared
In graceful flight. But thou art just a dream
O noble dream! To make me ever yearn
For cover drives borne from the spinning seam
And hair as white as hats which stop sun's burn
But Test match scores shall never run this way
Now glory's over. English sport is gay
No one played with a straighter bat and a benter knee.
I think you have posted in the safest place if you don't want anyone to see it.
Are there actually any rules to baseball, or is it just rounders played on steroids?
I watched for about two hours and thought they were just warming up but apparantly the game had just finished in a comprehensive stalemate.
The question is, though, was two hours long enough to finish a kingsized Coke and an imperial-galactic-overlord sized tub of popcorn?