[John Whitworth]

Come, come. Nothing rhymes with Gorbals. Gorbals, gerbils and marbles assonate, if there is such a word. And if there isn't, I just made it up. And jerbils is an alternative spelling. See Chambers Dictionary. Actually I just made that up.

[Peter Goulding]

Listen how she warbles,
Do you suppose they've robbed her baubles.

[Chris O'Carroll]

If you give birth to twin boys, your kids have four balls.

Badminton is played with neither pucks nor balls.

She kicked me in the crotch; now I have sore balls.

The thunder god’s lovers know the thrill of Thor balls.

Perhaps I could go on, but everybody would really rather I didn’t indulge in any stupid wordplay involving more balls.

[John Whitworth]

Peter to a Scot (I am half one but Nigel is, I think, the real Mackay) marbles (or even warbles) does not rhyme with baubles This is because a Scotsman rolls his arse. Warbles, however, rhmes with all those things Chris said.

[Martin Elster]

My Cousin Dee

No doubt my cousin Dee’s most distant kin
existed at the cosmos’ origin.
She’s relative of rock and air and water,
sister of the dolphin and the otter,

the drifting plankton, even the bacteria
and viruses that have caused mass hysteria,
all star-forged atoms in propinquity
to hawksbill, hummingbird, and honeybee.

Although she knows what, for the most part, man
forgets (all things compose the cosmic clan),
my cousin Dee would far prefer to mull
some wine than thoughts so philosophical.

She hardly ever leaves her musty attic.
Being seen is simply too traumatic,
for she is gawked at everywhere she goes
thanks to her tail, spiked ears, and nine-inch nose.

[Martin Parker]

Here is one which may puzzle some across the wider English Channel. This one contains a cast of only four -- assuming you count the whippet and the ferret.

Bathnight in Barnsley

Uncle Ted, home from the Pit,
In his old tin bath would sit
With his ferret and his whippet
And a pint of ale to sip. It
Was the normal aftermath
That Auntie found around the bath,
A scum of thick, malodorous greases
Washed from Ted’s less savoury pieces.

Poor Auntie used to frown and say,
“If tha wants ecky-thump today
I beg you, when you’ve had your fill
And rise from your congealing swill,
Please follow the politer path
Of always cleaning round the bath ---
An act of which your dog and ferret
Have begged me to extol the merit.”

(If The Sphere does not clean up in this competition I will drink my uncle's bath water.)

[Brian Allgar]

And if that doesn't win something, Martin, I'll lick the rim clean after you've emptied the bath.

[Brian Allgar]

Chris, you overlooked the gastronomical aspects.

A gourmet cannibal who loved to gnaw balls
Complained that he’d been given very poor balls;
He didn’t mind at all that they were raw balls,
But missionaries’ were smaller than macaw balls.

[John Whitworth]

Dammit, Martin. You win twice in my book. Ecky-thump!

[Martin Parker]

Thank you, both for your appreciation and optimism. I have a large and interesting family of which these two are only the first to emerge from a large file.
I am due on Friday at the Bath Festival of Literature (!) where I am booked in as the lunchtime fare (sacrificial lamb?) for several groups of West Country poets who profess an interest in rhyme. Perhaps I should take some of my family on a day's outing.

Brian, I hope to see you soon for an Augean Night in Barnsley.