Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

To cheer me up-been a bit 'otherwise engaged' of late,I've decided to post a pic of my cock.

http://i1064.photobucket.com/albums/...g?t=1466188395

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

That is one Cocky Cock.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

I am frustrated writer.

I have had a mental block regarding

expressing my thoughts for some time now.

Two days ago I decided to have a

These are the subjects which came into my mind.

People who are prone to spontaneous combustion
Repine
Don't start
Complain
Complins
Rule of St Benedict
Gordon Bennett
Rev.John (Jack) Russell
Nipper
Kennel Club
Mr. Stanley & Dr.Livingstone
Rev. William Wilks
Shirley Poppy
Shirley Parish
Repine




oops ..... back to the drawing board folks

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Well St. Benedict reminds me of Monks.


A recently reformed drunk
Got holy and became a Monk
But in all honesty, he was thrown out of the Monastery
Because he smelled like a skunk.

I find a fair few blokes over here who were heavy drinkers and suddenly pack it in become very religious and seem to go on a purge against all those who like a drink, same with some reformed smokers, is there a mental connection there do you think?
You would be surprised at the type of fellas who become Monks, one fella I worked with, no need for his name, was the biggest womaniser I ever laid me eyes on, he was tall slim and handsome and all the girls were nuts about him, he could lower the pints too. One Friday night after work a group of us were in the pub and out of the blue he came over all serious, asking questions nobody knows the answers to, such as “Why are we here?” and “What’s it all about?” You know the type of thing, anyway he sort of zombied his way out of reality for the rest of the evening and remained staring at the ceiling. Come Monday morning and there was no sign of yerman in work, in fact we never heard from him again until two months later when his brother called to collect his tools, he told me that he had decided to join the Cistercian (Trappist) order at Mount Melleray Abbey. That was about the time Cat Stevens got religious, remember him?
A member of his family called to the house last year to tell me he had died peacefully there, rest his soul.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

I prefer dogs as pets, I can't see anything there Pug, won't open for me.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

there was a young laddie called Pug
who was known for his strong chugalug
he would walk with his cock, along seashore and rock
singing ‘Me and me cocks got the blues!

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

all this verbagige reminds me we are in the good company of a far off poet namely Banjo Paterson - [I once had his complete works as a Xmas present which I threw out in a moment of passionate disregard - I know I hang my head in shame!]

One of his poems or limericks has long inspired the Australian psyche!

Clancy of the Overflow

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just 'on spec', addressed as follows, 'Clancy, of The Overflow'.

And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
'Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
'Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are.'

In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving 'down the Cooper' where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.

And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.

I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all.

And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.

And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.

And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal —
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of 'The Overflow'.

Banjo Paterson

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)


Fair play to Banjo Paterson, very disscriptive, I enjoyed reading that thanks for posting it Gumbud.

Meanwhile back at the sausage factory.




Taking your Bird for a walk.

The Sun was shining and the grass was at it greenest
My Bird needs a stroll but today she’s not the keenest
A collar of Gold I made for her neck
It’s only nine carat, but what the heck
I had to coax her with the promise of a feed
Said I’m making a film and she could play the lead
We hadn’t gone far in the bright Sunlight
When she complained that the collar was too tight
I loosed it up and gave her neck a rub
Said I’d remove it altogether when we got to the Pub
I perched her down on a tall wooden stool
Got her a cheese sandwich and a bowl of cruel
Home by the Canal and out through the Park
She was so happy she sang like a Lark.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

a duck I suppose?

"is this yerh durk?" - no I don't have a durk!

aka Peter Sellars

there was a young fella from Dublin
he and his bird just loved cuddlin
they would walk by the Liffey
as she sat on his quiffey
and his eyes they would spin round anew!

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

I've just been to the world's quietist bowling alley.

... you could hear a pin drop!