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Andy Pandy
Starting Member
24 Posts |
 Posted - 19 July 2006 : 02:42:56 AM
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Ma tried to wash her garden slacks but couldn't get 'em clean
And so she thought she'd soak 'em in a bucket o' benzine.
It worked all right. She wrung 'em out then wondered what she'd do
With all that bucket load of high explosive residue.
She knew that it was dangerous to scatter it around,
For Grandpa liked to throw his lighted matches on the ground.
Somehow she didn't dare to pour it down the kitchen sink,
And what the heck to do with it, poor Ma jest couldn't think.
Then Nature seemed to give the clue, as down the garden lot
She spied the edifice that graced a solitary spot,
Their Palace of Necessity, the family joy and pride,
Enshrined in morning-glory vine, with graded seats inside;
Jest like that cabin Goldylocks found occupied by three,
But in this case B-E-A-R was spelt B-A-R-E----
A tiny seat for Baby Bare, a medium for Ma,
A full-sized section sacred to the Bare of Grandpapa.
Well, Ma was mighty glad to get that worry off her mind,
And hefting up the bucket so combustibly inclined,
She hurried down the garden to that refuge so discreet,
And dumped the liquid menace safely through the centre seat.
Next morning old Grandpa arose; he made a hearty meal,
And sniffed the air and said: `By Gosh! how full of beans I feel.
Darned if I ain't as fresh as paint; my joy will be complete
With jest a quiet session on the usual morning seat;
To smoke me pipe an' meditate, an' maybe write a pome,
For that's the time when bits o' rhyme gits jiggin' in me dome.'
He sat down on that special seat slicked shiny by his age,
And looking like Walt Whitman, jest a silver-whiskered sage.
He filled his corn-cob to the brim and tapped it snugly down,
And chuckled: `Of a perfect day I reckon this the crown.'
Then lit the weed, it soothed his need, it was so soft and sweet:
And then he dropped the lighted match clean through the middle seat.
His little grand-child Rosyleen cried from the kichen door:
`Oh, Ma, come quick; there's sompin wrong; I heared a dreffel roar;
Oh, Ma, I see a sheet of flame; it's rising high and higher...
Oh, Mummy dear, I sadly fear our comfort-cot's caught fire.'
Poor Ma was thrilled with horror at them words o' Rosyleen.
She thought of Grandpa's matches and that bucket of benzine;
So down the garden geared on high, she ran with all her power,
For regular was Grandpa, and she knew it was his hour.
Then graspin' gaspin' Rosyleen she peered into the fire,
A roarin' soarin' furnace now, perchance old Grandpa's pyre....
But as them twain expressed their pain they heard a hearty cheer----
Behold the old rapscallion squattinn' in the duck pond near,
His silver whiskers singed away, a gosh-almighty wreck,
Wi' half a yard o' toilet seat entwined about his neck....
He cried: `Say, folks, oh, did ye hear the big blow-out I made?
It scared me stiff-I hope you-un was not to much afraid?
But now I best be crawlin' out o' this dog-gasted wet....
For what I aim to figger out is----WHAT THE HECK I ET?'
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Andy Pandy |
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Larry Lamb
Senior Member
2406 Posts |
Posted - 23 July 2006 : 3:49:17 PM
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| Great poem m8,I laughed my little wooly socks off |
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Larry Lamb
Senior Member
2406 Posts |
Posted - 23 July 2006 : 4:02:23 PM
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| Great poem m8,I laughed my little wooly socks off |
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F ussy
Baileys Benefactor !
5935 Posts |
Posted - 13 August 2006 : 1:11:45 PM
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Andy Pandy,
Well, I go to Wick!!!
That's GOT to be the funniest poem I've read for many a moon.
The Bare of Grandpapa...so funny!
Ho! Ho! Ho!
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Pauline
Administrator & Miserable Old Fart !
United Kingdom
2968 Posts |
Posted - 30 September 2006 : 11:48:22 PM
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| That Poem REALLY made me laugh I think whoever wrote that must have been standing outside our bathroom window. This Colitis of mine has been playing up a LOT lately, and when it gets going it DEFINITELY sounds like an explosion in a gasworks ! LOL ! |
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Larry Lamb
Senior Member
2406 Posts |
Posted - 01 October 2006 : 4:57:47 PM
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Oh blimy  Just as well you live out in the countryside then, because if your house was in a street your neighbours would be reporting you to the bomb squad on suspicion of creating weapons of mass eruption  |
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The Outhouse
