Buggery-Pluggery
Hopalong Cassidy
Said that his missus once
Threatened divorce,

Catching her husband de-
Licto-flagrantedly
Trading positions with
Topper, his horse.

"Metrical Poetry,"
"Musing on Mastery,"
experts and wannabes
sharing their views.

Sonnets and villanelles,
het-met or regular,
all come in search of a
true Able Muse.

Topper the horse complained,
"Why do they always say
‘let's do it doggie style?'
Dogs do not rule.

Why not say ‘horsie style?'
Why not ‘like elephants?'
Hopalong, hop along,
dog-humping fool!"

Skippity-trippity
Roger-no-middle-name
learned to do dactyls; they
got in his blood.

Balanced like elephants,
aerodynamically,
dactyls may skip but they
clearly don't thud.

Thermopyle-Bermopyle
Constantine Cavafy
Said Leonidas the
Battle okayed;

Even though losing, told
Lacedaemonians
"Arrows so thick that we
Fought in the shade".

Suffragette, tougher-yet
Susan B. Anthony
Got us the vote with her
Tireless hard work.

Since then the polls became
Heterosexual;
All share the blame for e-
Lecting some jerk.

Yes Turd, I.

Having demonstrated an evident incompetence in double-dactyl form, in the time honored manner of losers everywhere, I have changed the rules to my advantage.

I have invented the Dublin' Dock-Till.

No, this is not a bear trap for sticky fingers or an implement for weeding the back streets of the Irish capital, it is a form wherein words have a phonetic similarity to an original well-known piece, The use of regional accents, Cockney, Bronx, Oirish , Whatever, is permitted , even encouraged.

This is my first rendition, hopefully you’ll recognise a little song from the Flab Fore.

It occurs to me that this would have natural appeal to the multi-talented Nay Jill, Hold.

Yes turd, I
nude at love, was juice to see le gam touple.
Knowth seams is dough, that seared Tuesday
sow, I’ll be leavin—
yes turd, I.

Dunce, Eiffel in love,
( I forget this line)
butt-hide in some thin throng
now eye,
long off her,
yes, turd I,

A. Nonny-Mouse






[This message has been edited by Jim Hayes (edited January 22, 2002).]

Jiminy-Criminy
Kilkenny Irishman
Terribly frustrated
Changes the drill;

Switches from dactyls to
Incomprehensible
Lyrics from Yesterday
Called a dock-till

Please do not tell me that
Elinor Rigby's next,
picking up turds where the
wedding has been.

Bad puns and toilet jokes
seem to appeal to you
more than to other folks.
Pick a new sin.

This one's been done to death
starting in nursery school
where the least farting sound
caused us to grin.

Roger I'll do my best
but there is truth in jest,
nevertheless, I'll see what I can do,
although when I see your name,
(each day it is the same)
the turds I encounter remind me of you.

I'm not so pathological
that in verse scatalogical,
I'd make an admission, all I did when in school
was joke at a kid's fart--
dear Roger it's not smart
to let people know why you still act the fool.

Roger you sorely
prick me and bore me,
and now I'm not keen to lock horns with a nit;
that you're in my face, Roger
and on my case, Roger,
I'd accept if your repartee rhymed and had wit.

Cheers.






[This message has been edited by Jim Hayes (edited January 23, 2002).]