Thread: Another fun verse for you all.

It's funny how you come to know some folk
While you're sat reading the forum pages.
You chit and you chat over this and then that
And feel like you've known them for ages.

So Good Morning to Naval who will soon be on patrol.
With his beautiful new avatar!
And Happy Birthday to Kate whose been busy of late.
From this forum she won't stray afar.

A Good Day to the newbies who are learning their way
And to ***** and gang - have a nice day!
Not forgetting, of course, all the rest I have missed,
Please don't take offence or with me be p****d.

Hello and good day to you - one and to all
On this lovely last day in March.
Keep up the good work, or not, it's your call
But enjoy every minute of this day.


Apologies for the star word and I couldn't think of a rhyme for March! :o) lol.

I love your writing Amanda! You have a neat little talent! and thats a good star word with march! Very nice greeting!

Off the Dole : by Kenkew

I started mi new job just this morning,

The boss said 'ow 'appy he were.

To see a young fella look 'appy,

To work for so little pay.

Well, when you get down to your uppers,

An' everythin' starts looking bleak,

There's a time when you take a step back'ards,

An' 'appen you turn t'other cheek.

It's not what I'd hoped for I tell you,

For me I 'ad better things planned,

A doctor, a lawer, a surgeon,

Or somethin' as equally grand.

But I do get a free brush an' shovel,

Tho' mi cart 'as a wobb'erly wheel,

I get a cap an' a pair o' green wellies,

An' when I've done I get a free meal.

An the boss is treating me kindly,

He said as 'ow I were new,

The first job he'd decided to give me,

Would be one, an' most folks get two!

I just 'ave to clean up the gutters,

Along a particular road,

Mi map and bags are strapped to the cart,

Which should sort of balance the load.

The map says I start at Scotch Corner,

An' sweep down the left to the end,

I've to pick up bottles wi' brass back,

An' 'alf what I find I can spend.

He'd said as when I got finished,

An' I'd swept to the end of the road,

I'd to empty mi bin, an' clean it wi' Vim,

Swop sides an' begin a new load.

I cleaned up the signs at the road top,

Left 'em all sparkling an' new,

Trimmed off the grass at the bottom,

An' polished the metal posts too.

There were summat in mind that were bothering,

Summat I'd missed that were there,

It were summat that didn't quite feel right,

An' for a minute I just stood standing there.

Still, I'd just about got mi'sen ready,

I'd read t'map an' got out mi brush,

It were then when it suddenly hit me,

It came in a sort of a rush.

The gaffer 'ad given me just one job,

An' I must say he didn't lie,

But nor was he being so kindly,

An' I'll tell you real the reason why.

He told me to go down the left side,

"An' just 'cos I like you, old son,

Stop for some tea when you get there,"

But the road was the ruddy A1.

Happy March to all!

I'm shocked, Amanda! The proper word is "*isse*. Please be careful in future.

Dave

Originally Posted by ddstiles

I'm shocked, Amanda! The proper word is "*isse*. Please be careful in future.

Dave

LOL. Where did this get dug up from - it's from months ago! Lol. Thank you for the lesson, as always, Dave.

Originally Posted by kenkew

Off the Dole : by Kenkew


I started mi new job just this morning,
The boss said 'ow 'appy he were.
To see a young fella look 'appy,
To work for so little pay...............

.........He told me to go down the left side,
"An' just 'cos I like you, old son,
Stop for some tea when you get there,"

But the road was the ruddy A1.

Very nice kenkew, nice accent.

TABLETS OF STONE
by
Kenkew

Moses awoke feeling troubled, he had to get something across,
He doubted if folks would believe him, 'cause Moses weren't really the boss.
He'd made some mistakes in his life time, an' wasn't too sure it were him,
Who were best one to speak his people, there was some who thought him quite dim.

You see Moses had got into trouble, last week the Faroe he beat,
At crib, an' darts an' back-gammon, an' t'Faroe had turned up the heat.
He'd doubled the rent on the camels, an' tripled the bus fare to town,
He'd put VAT on new tent poles, an' had Moses polish his crown.

Summat had got to be done ***** like, an' Moses taking a breath,
Approached all his people, cap in one hand, while t'other one hung on to Seth.
He said how he'd made a decision, to take all his people away,
He warned 'em an' said, "This is different, it's not like Blackpool fur t'day.

They'll not be no time for sand-castles, an' don't bring toffees or pop,
This 'ere is a serious outing, an' I doubt there'll be time for a stop.
The place that I thought we would 'ead for," he said with a face all salome,
"Is a place you'll never have 'eard off, anew spot by t'sea we'll call 'ome."

Well, most folks thought that was crazy, they'd already got their selves set,
They'd been where they were for many a year, an' the Faroe weren't really a threat.
There was grumblin's about the idea, from pensioners who made some good points,
Like who's going to arrange for some transport, 'cos old fold can't walk on old joints.

But Moses had done some deep thinking, an' said as last Saturday night,
He'd been sound asleep and quite sober, when he'd woke to a wonderful sight.
He said a picture was laid out afore him, showing such wonderful scenes,
A land full of honey an' Marmite, mint humbugs, bananas and beans.

This didn't go down well wi' some folks, some of 'em told as they'd 'ad,
Gone to Old Moses' last birthday, an' been given cold fish that were bad.
An' others told tales of bad judgement, telling as not long ago,
That Moses 'ad organised pancakes but didn't know how to make t'dough.

His planning 'ad never been perfect but he knew in his heart how this would,
Be one of those things they'd put in a book, like when Noah 'ad warned about t'flood.
He kept up the pressure twice daily, 'till folks were beginning to see,
As 'appen 'Old Whiskers' could do it, an' he could make a nice pot o' tea.

So after debating an' thinking, an' hours spent chewing the fat,
They decided to give him one final chance, an' for a while he could wear t'leaders hat.
By now it were well past their bed time, an' some folks had missed out on their teas,
So Moses put his 'and in his pocket, an' all round it were fish, chips an' peas.

Now the decision were final, they dug out their best Sunday rags,
But no-body had thought about shop times, an no-body had any bags.
"Don't panic", said Moses quite loudly, an' people looked up to him then,
"I've got an arrangement with Burton's, tonight they'll stay open 'till ten".

An' so everybody was ready, there wasn't all that much to pack,
A few basins, an' jugs, an' kettles and mugs, all stashed on the camels' roof rack.
They set off across the dark sand dunes, it were black as a coal-miners neck,
When he asked his wife to carry his bag, she gave a look that said 'Would she heck'.

There were just one doubt that were nagging, it lay heavy on Moses' mind,
He knew once a week the Faroe came round, an' wondered what he would find.
It didn't take long as Moses summised, afore t'Faroe were packing his bowl,
Dreaming of goodies like Hot-pot and roast, Yorkshire pudding and Toad-in-the 'ole.

It were just the next day that the Faroe set off, all posh in a new 'at an' coat,
It were that time o'week to visit his group, To eat bowls of Scouse an' to gloat.

He arrived bang on tea-time, a regular thing, As it was 'is want so to do,
But but on seeing the desert deserted, thought, 'eck, I've missed out on mi stew.

His Captain of horses, Ramoosis, on see'n' the Faroe's despair,
Instructed the troops to pick up their scoops, and go search for clues everywhere.

One chap moved pretty quickly, and in almost no time at all,
Found just what he had looked for, camel dung, still steaming an'all.
"Are you sure that belongs to Moses?" he asked his Captain of horse,
"Well it doesn't look like one of ours but I can't be certain of course."

"Well sort it out pretty ***** like, I'm not going to sit here all day,"
So with wobberly knees, the Captain of horse, got down on one knee as to pray.
He lifted a portion with eyes shut, And beginning to feel rather sick,
Smothered the whole thing with HP, and gave it a tentative lick.

"I'm sure that this is one of Moses", said Ramoosis with quivering chin,
It might look a mess, but it's really quite fresh," and for later put some in his tin.
"Well done" said the Faroe, holding his nose, "would you like some paper?" where-on,
The Captain replied, feeling warmer inside, "Nay, Sire, the camel's long gone".

"To horse" cried the Faroe, " Let's leave this place and track down Moses and Co,
A florin I give, if they are captive, By Christmas, (it's a joke, Ho! Ho! Ho!")

I like the Ken Edgar monologues and poems. Those are both good examples of the dialect that they were written in. They are in the same vein as Albert and The LIon amongst others. You can't beat th' Lancashire dialect tha knows, its reet gradely.

Originally Posted by royb

I like the Ken Edgar monologues and poems. Those are both good examples of the dialect that they were written in. They are in the same vein as Albert and The LIon amongst others. You can't beat th' Lancashire dialect tha knows, its reet gradely.

Lol.
Eeh, ahl go't'foot of our sturs.

I don't know what you are talking about, Roy. I don't have an accent, I sound like the Queen. Lol.

This is Albert and The Lion

Its lancashire dialect like the 2 above. This was by Marriott Edgar but I don't know if he was related to Ken Edgar who did them.

There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool,
That's noted for fresh-air and fun,
And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.

A grand little lad was their Albert
All dressed in his best; quite a swell
'E'd a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle
The finest that Woolworth's could sell.

They didn't think much to the ocean
The waves, they was fiddlin' and small
There was no wrecks... nobody drownded
'Fact, nothing to laugh at, at all.

So, seeking for further amusement
They paid and went into the zoo
Where they'd lions and tigers and cam-els
And old ale and sandwiches too.

There were one great big lion called Wallace
His nose were all covered with scars
He lay in a som-no-lent posture
With the side of his face to the bars.

Now Albert had heard about lions
How they were ferocious and wild
And to see Wallace lying so peaceful
Well... it didn't seem right to the child.

So straight 'way the brave little feller
Not showing a morsel of fear
Took 'is stick with the'orse's 'ead 'andle
And pushed it in Wallace's ear!

You could see that the lion didn't like it
For giving a kind of a roll
He pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im
And swallowed the little lad... whole!

Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence
And didn't know what to do next
Said, "Mother! Yon lions 'et Albert"
And Mother said "Eeh, I am vexed!"

So Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Quite rightly, when all's said and done
Complained to the Animal Keeper
That the lion had eaten their son.

The keeper was quite nice about it
He said, "What a nasty mishap
Are you sure that it's your lad he's eaten?"
Pa said, "Am I sure? There's his cap!"

So the manager had to be sent for
He came and he said, "What's to do?"
Pa said, "Yon lion's 'eaten our Albert
And 'im in his Sunday clothes, too."

Then Mother said, "Right's right, young feller
I think it's a shame and a sin
For a lion to go and eat Albert
And after we've paid to come in!"

The manager wanted no trouble
He took out his purse right away
And said, "How much to settle the matter?"
And Pa said "What do you usually pay?"

But Mother had turned a bit awkward
When she thought where her Albert had gone
She said, "No! someone's got to be summonsed"
So that were decided upon.

Round they went to the Police Station
In front of a Magistrate chap
They told 'im what happened to Albert
And proved it by showing his cap.

The Magistrate gave his o-pinion
That no-one was really to blame
He said that he hoped the Ramsbottoms
Would have further sons to their name.

At that Mother got proper blazing
"And thank you, sir, kindly," said she
"What waste all our lives raising children
To feed ruddy lions? Not me!"

Is name were Walter Marriot Edgar, un E wur livin nod far away fro ear wen E rote them monologues, above 40 on em.
Regards
Walter.