Poetry Corner and the Written Word

[Elen Sentier]

Ta for that , and ta to your lady too.

 

[Bushwhacker]

An old chap I used to work with always used to recite this one:


My Mother said, I never should
Play with the gipsies in the wood;
If I did, she would say,
You naughty girl to disobey.
Your hair shan’t curl and your shoes shan’t shine,
You gipsy girl, you shan’t be mine.
And my father said that if I did
He’d rap my head with the teapot-lid.
The wood was dark, the grass was green
Along came Sally with a tambourine.
I went to sea – no ship to get across,
I paid ten shillings for a blind white horse.
I up on his back
And was off on a crack,
Sally tell my mother that I shan’t come back.

 

[Bushwhacker]

A version of this gets bandied around the pub every so often, usually when a microphone is kicking about after a band has been playing.

There was an old farmer who lived on a rock
He sat in the meadow just shaking his
Fist at some boys who were down by the crick*
Their feet in the water, their hands on their
Marbles and playthings, and at half past four
There came a young lady, she looked like a
Pretty young creature, she sat on the grass
She pulled up her dress and she showed them her
Ruffles and laces and white fluffy duck
She said she was learning a new way to
Bring up her children so they would not spit
While the boys in the barnyard were shoveling
Refuse and litter from yesterday's hunt
While the girl in the meadow was rubbing her
Eyes at the fellow down by the dock
He looked like a man with a sizeable
Home in the country with a big fence out front
If he asked her politely, she'd show him her
Little pet dog who was subject to fits
And maybe she'd let him grab hold of her
Small tender hands with a movement so quick
And then she'd bend over and suck on his
Candy so tasty, made of butterscotch
and then he'd spread whipped cream all over her
Cookies that she had left out on her shelf
If you think this is dirty, you can go **** yourself!