@Ghost-of-a-Duke
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought the Ghost Of A Duke upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Duchess64—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Duchess64—
Nameless here for evermore.
And yes, E.A. Poe was what I read as a child, in case anyone is wondering ....
Earl was an elephant, a great big fellow,
Suzi was a lioness with a six foot tail,
Herman was a goat, and his beard was yellow,
And Rusty was a very small snail.
Suzi had a stall, and a great big strong one,
Earl had a manger, and its walls were thick,
Herman found a pen, but I think it was the wrong one,
And Rusty sat down on a brick
Earl started trumpeting, and cracked his manger,
Suzi started roaring, and shivered her stall,
Rusty gave a huffle of a snail in danger,
And nobody heard him at all.
Earl started trumpeting and raised such a rumpus,
Suzi started roaring and trying to kick,
Rusty went a'journey with the goat's new compass
And he reached the end of his brick.
Earl was an elephant and very well intentioned,
Suzi was a lioness with a long brave tail,
Herman was a goat, as I think I have mentioned,
but Rusty was only a snail.
Apologies to A.A. Milne
’Twas brillig, and the slithy Diver
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the Moonbuses,
And the Suziannes outgrabe.
“Beware the Orangutan, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Kewpie bird, and shun
The frumious Ponderable!”
He took his Trevor sword in hand;
Long time the manxome Stees he sought—
So rested he by the Paul Martin tree
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Orangutan, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the Torun wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The Trevor blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the Orangutan?
Come to my arms, my Ghostly boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy Diver
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the Moonbuses,
And the Suziannes outgrabe.
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Mashburn died at first, and Mike69 did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only AverageJoe could but get a whack at that—
We'd put up even money now, with AverageJoe at the bat."
But Mott preceded AverageJoe, as did also MetalBrain,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a stain;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of AverageJoe getting to the bat.
But Mott let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Brain, the much despisèd, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Brain safe at second and Mott a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Joe, mighty Joe, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Joe's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in AverageJoe's bearing and a smile lit AverageJoe's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas AverageJoe at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in AverageJoe's eye, a sneer curled AverageJoe's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And AverageJoe stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
"That ain't my style," said AverageJoe. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not AverageJoe raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great AverageJoe's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But AverageJoe still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from AverageJoe and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that AverageJoe wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from AverageJoe's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of AverageJoe's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville—AverageJoe struck out.
because nursery rhymes bore me i was having a difficult time remembering any at all
so i searched the collective wisdom of humanity,
recorded by wiser folks than me
but now i find a different notion that upsets my soul
it seems that "jack" has some sort of lock on the casting director's mind
i sense evil, jack is everywhere
Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.
Then up got Jack and said to Jill,
As in his arms he took her,
“Brush off that dirt for you’re not hurt,
Let’s fetch that pail of water.”
So Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch the pail of water,
And took it home to Mother dear,
Who thanked her son and daughter.
Jack be nimble,
Jack be quick,
Jack jump over
The candlestick.
Jack Sprat could eat no fat.
His wife could eat no lean.
And so between them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean
Jack ate all the lean,
Joan ate all the fat.
The bone they picked it clean,
Then gave it to the cat
