[Janet Kenny]

Love that Henry. You rotter. How can I add to that?

Peter "Spindleshanks" wrote a beauty about a shared pair of false teeth.

P-E-T-E-R M. !!!! I know you lurk sometimes. Come forth and deliver your popular poem one more time.
Janet

[Henry Quince]

SHAGGY DOG STORY

Old-timer Sam, a grizzled Yukon trapper
wasn’t a socializing man at all.
For years a hugely shaggy dog called Rover,
who too was old, was all he’d had to call
a friend. When Sam went hunting snipe or bison
or caribou or grizzly bear or moose
on trips for weeks or months, he took no person
along — he always said he had no use
for humankind — but ever-faithful Rover,
that hugely shaggy dog, was always there.
When Sam grew glum or disappointed over
some quarry lost, some mountain goat or bear
fled at their scent, at once that hugely shaggy
and faithful dog would lick and snuggle close
to comfort him. And when distemper’s groggy
spells made Rover tremble and his nose
grow hot and dry, the man would lie beside him,
would dose him up and prattle idle words
until the fever passed. One winter tried them:
long frozen months; they’d eaten three small birds —
how many weeks ago? Starvation tested
the bond between them. With no thaw in sight,
no sign of game, both man and dog were wasted
and weak. At last, while Rover slept, one night,
with tearful eyes the trapper raised his rifle
and shot his dog through the head. And Rover died
there by the campfire, with a kind of shuffle.
And while Sam fed the fire with wood, he cried.
Well, Rover even now was hugely shaggy,
but meaty he was not. Said Sam through moans
and tears, when he had eaten all the scraggy
scraps: “Poor Rover would have loved them bones!”


[This message has been edited by Henry Quince (edited September 19, 2006).]

[David Anthony]

A fine example of the genre, Henry. I wept to read the close.
Reminds me in some ways of Tim Murphy's peg-leg pig poem.
Best regards,
David

[Janet Kenny]

Shame on you Henry Quince

It wrung me withers it did.
Janet

[Quincy Lehr]

THE SHAGGY DOG

So this shaggy dog
Bit my leg when I was five.
I hate that fucker.

(I realize that the haiku isn't a "shaggy dog story," but it's a story about a shaggy dog, which is something. I guess.)

Quincy

[Roger Slater]

I don't know if these are shaggy dogs or not, but they end on bad puns (and the puns aren't original, either). In the third of these, you need to know that a "schmuck" is both an idiot/jerk/asshole and, literally, male genitalia.


NOT WHITTIER


There once was a bear with feet just like a boy's.
One day it strayed to where the carver, Chan,
displayed the fabled jewelry and toys
he fashioned from fine teak. A gifted man,
his fame was such that people often came
from far and wide to meet him and possess
a shapely hunk of wood that bore his name.
All men loved his art, the bear no less.
In fact, the bear was so entranced by all
the carvings that he saw, he stole a sack
and raced into the forest to the call
of Chan's assistants, screaming "Bear, come back!"
The bear could hear them shouting as he ran,
"Stop, oh boy-foot bear with teaks of Chan!"

*

TALES FROM CAMELOT

The biggest thunderstorm in eighty years.
The winds lift giant trees out by the roots,
when at my gate Sir Lancelot appears,
the mud of tempests clinging to his boots,
and says, "Sirrah, I beg of you a horse."
I have no horse to give, and tell him so.
"Then lend me that big mutt. I've ridden worse."
His voice is desperate as the gale winds blow.
"But Lancelot, come in and dry your armor.
The rain, I fear, is turning into hail.
Depart tomorrow, when the weather's calmer.
If you go now, your mission's doomed to fail.
And yes, my friend, I would be quite remiss
to send a knight out on a dog like this."

*


THE MISSING CAMEL

"Hello? Police? I'm calling to report
my camel has been kidnapped!!" Sidney said.
"Every day I ride the beast to work,
and now it's gone. I pray it is not dead!"

"Okay, what color is it?" "I don't know."
"How tall is it?" "I do not recollect."
"How many humps?" "I'm not sure. One or two.
Why would you ask me that? I never checked."

"Okay, what is your missing camel's gender?"
Sidney answered, "Definitely male."
The policeman asked, "If you cannot remember
the rest, why are you sure of this detail?"

"It's simple," Sidney answered. "After all,
it isn't hard when dealing with a mammal.
When I ride down the street, I hear folks call,
'My God! Look at the big schmuck on that camel!'"

[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

LOL -these are worth an issue all their own!

[Catherine Chandler]

Not-So-Quick-Chick

There was a chicken, lovely in her wings,
more beautiful than other feathered things.
Her eggs were plentiful, and Farmer Brown
crowed of his pullet all around the town.

The rumor spread, until it reached the ears
of Colonel Sanders. Next thing, he appears,
pays Farmer Brown a million for the bird
(no chicken feed!). The deal is overheard

by, yep, the would-be victim of the sale,
the Judas-like betrayal. In great detail
she hatched a plan: she’d leave her safe abode,
wait for the cars to pass, then cross the road!

She’d go and live with Farmer Green who owned
a dairy farm. It could not be postponed;
so with the panting Colonel at her heels,
the chicken made her move. The tire squeals

were horrifying! O the price she paid
for trying to escape the chicken-trade!
The Colonel took his money and he left
a broken Farmer Brown, contrite, bereft.

Too late he’d realized his foul mistake;
for years he’d toss and turn, he’d lie awake,
his bitter tears enough to fill an ocean.
The moral: Don’t put poultry in motion.



[This message has been edited by C. Chandler-Oliveira (edited September 22, 2006).]

[Mary Meriam]

.

[This message has been edited by Mary Meriam (edited November 23, 2006).]

[Roger Slater]

LAMENT

My cheeks are saggy,
my jeans are baggy,
my forehead's craggy,
since I lost Maggie.
Even my dog, whose tale was once waggy,
is draggy and shaggy.