[John Whitworth]

All hail to Lucy who can write Georgic and know we doughty compers will know what she means. Or I hope we will.


No. 2821: Georgic

You are invited to supply a poem that provides instruction or useful information. Please email entries (of up to 16 lines), wherever possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 23 October.

[Brian Allgar]

Originally Posted by John Whitworth

All hail to Lucy who can write Georgic and know we doughty compers will know what she means. Or I hope we will.

"Georgic: A poem dealing with practical aspects of agriculture and rural affairs."

Hmmm ... do you think the "instruction or useful information" has to be agricultural or rural?

[Ann Drysdale]

Well, I'm still trying to find a home for that septic tank emptying poem...

[Brian Allgar]

xxxxxxxxxxCountry matters

Last week, I told you how to madden hatters,
And how to stuff a dormouse in a pot.
Today, we’re moving on to country matters,
So brighten up, you miserable lot.
First, choose a milk-maid or a shepherdess,
Then find a spot: a haystack or a barn’ll
Do very well. Although the wench may guess
That your intentions tend towards the carnal,
Don’t frighten her away; no sudden pouncing,
No fumbling with the buttons on her frock,
Until she makes it clear she’s up for bouncing
By taking off herself her rustic smock,
And then the pair of you can start to play
(A slap and tickle’s fine, but please, no violence),
So gently push her down upon the hay ...
I think I’ve said enough; the rest is silence.

[Ann Drysdale]

I think you're conflating Georgic and Eclogue, she said, pig-sick with envy.

[Brian Allgar]

Well, I thought I was sticking pretty close to the "practical aspects of ... rural affairs" - but then, I wouldn't know an eclogue from a clerihew. As for conflating, I'm afraid years of smoking have made it impossible.

[John Whitworth]

Useful Tips for Travellers from the UKIP Handbook

Don’t speak the filthy lingo of the Frogs.
That was the stuff first sent them to the dogs.
Huns are home-loving, cabbage-eating folks.
Keep to the law and don’t tell English jokes.
Windmills and wooden shoes define your Dutch.
The place is flat and nothing’s up to much.
All Belgians were designed by a committee.
Brussels must be the world’s most boring city.
Greeks go for ships, medallions and boys’ bums.
Eyeties prefer the Mafia and their Mums.
Latinos? Bull-abusing, love-rat hunks.
Vikings? Big-bearded, suicidal drunks.
Brits at the heart of Europe, then? No thanks.
Try the US – if you can stand the Yanks.
But, what with funny money and the weather,
Safest to cut out Foreign altogether.

[Lance Levens]

The Whacky Georgic

Had we but turf enough and time,
I'd teach you how to grow some rhyme.
Sine qua non's that whacky sound.
The tastiest rhymes I've ever found
have chunks of "whacky" at their heart.
You'll love it; sniff the rhymer's art.
Now buying "whacky" at the store
will cost. One fat "whack" will cost more
than I bring in a year. So head
instead to that fearful OED,
enchanted forest where you might
go "moon-mind", but the "whack" is "tight."
Wait to pluck on the darkest night.
Insert into your waiting line
and savor: M-m-m--that's"whacky" fine!

[John Whitworth]

Useful Tips

Assemble what you need – bamboo.
Brown paper, string, a pot of glue,
Feathers from Highland capercaillies,
Gut from guitars or ukuleles,
Stout cardboard, twenty small brass screws,
The sort high class opticians use,
Seventeen feet of copper wire
Are all the parts you will require.
Follow the plans enclosed, Then cut
To size and lash it tight with gut.
When your construction is robust
And sprinkled with my magic dust,
Proceed to some convenient cliff.
Hold both your arms out very stiff.
Flap. Jump. Now give it all you've got,
And you will fly. Or you will not

How do you pronounce those birds?

[Ann Drysdale]

If you spell them "capercaillies", all doubt is removed.