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By Turquoise-Tangerine
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16 July 2008 |
Following on from Eric's sterling efforts.
It's lunchtime at the White Hart (an ashen faced old deer)
and plump fresh fruit in mourning suits have joined me for a beer.
The foolish barman bars a stool for crowding 'round the bar
whilst squads of coppers (traffic stoppers) clamp a panda's car.
We end a glut of 'sorted' nuts with finger nails to nibble;
when ales are quaffed, pork scratchings scoffed, Sir Liva starts to dribble.
Hours are passed with bitters (draught), good times are had by all,
but All's the fool who barred the stool, so coppers have a ball.
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Ha! Ha! Ha!
Written by Katanga (1182 comments posted) 16th July 2008 | Really enjoyed this! Line four is the best for me - also love your 'ashen faced old deer' and 'Sir Liva'.
Nice one!
Cheers!
John | Very fine!
Written by Talisker (1326 comments posted) 16th July 2008 | I particularly liked the "plump fresh fruit in morning suits"
Sometimes nonsense makes the most sense somehow!
Oli  |
Written by Turquoise-Tangerine (95 comments posted) 17th July 2008 | | Silly nonsense, but thanks for your kind words. |
Written by JourneyAtNight (314 comments posted) 17th July 2008 | Hehe, liked this very much.
Here's to nonsense!
E | Marvellous! :)
Written by Bookwormandco. (22 comments posted) 26th August 2008 | Great little poem, I particularly liked the Sir Liva bit.
How do you manage to keep the rhyming up for 8 lines though? I can never get farther than two!
To nonsense! 
Lauren |
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