Ah bet when yer were born the nurse slapped yer mother :w00t:Originally Posted by stevefoster
Ah bet when yer were born the nurse slapped yer mother :w00t:
1964, Mrs. Foster gives birth to a gorilla-like child
Midwife delivers, but is suitably riled
That's one ugly little chap
Forgive me but i must administer a slap
Ha ha Mrs Bother likes that one!!!
Vinegar Hill
Ah remember me ma's look of horror
When ah telt er ah start down the pit tomorra
Ah face went arl white
As she came ower wi fright
Can yer not be painter like yer brother?
Yer cannit blame me for been crap at school
Yer let us' doll off and dress like a fool
Ahd come in drunk, yer'd send a note to say am poorly
If yer think ahm daft...it must be ye, surely?
Yer'd berrer behave and stop yer lip
Else when yer Da gets in yer'll gerra clip
When ah come in from the bingo ahl be talkin to him
So sit down and think and mek sure yer in.
When me father comes yehm ahm expectin a thump
So ah hid in me bed with a bloody great lump
He'll probly's come in drunk n fight wi me mother
But ah don't want to be a painter like me brother.
Son, ah smoke an a drink and ah probably stink
Av spoke wi yer mother an hope yer've had time to think
Yer hardly know me, an wer've nevva talked before
So shut up an listen an don't even blink.
"I cough and ah splutter
ah hockle in the gutter
Ah thowt ah was fit
till ah went down the pit
The stench meks yer sick
yer mates say yer thick
The rats eat yer crust
as yer breath in the dust
Me hands are all torn
an me backs all bent
Me knees are knackered
an me lungs like cement
Son, yer not that daft
to folla me down the shaft
Please son don't be a fool
have another go at school"
Thanks dad ah won't be fool
Ahl gerrup the mornin an gan back to school
An even if ah don't make the grade
Ahl work bloody hard an get me a trade
"good night son
an in the morning
say sorry to yer mother!"
Ok dad, but am not ganna be a painter like me brother.
NB
Brilliant NB, better being a Fell Pony than a Pit Pony:wink:
It was a gorgeous spring day today, though not officially spring yet, and I flushed out a skylark when I was out running on the moor.
The Skylark
The rolls and harrows lie at rest beside
The battered road; and spreading far and wide
Above the russet clods, the corn is seen
Sprouting its spiry points of tender green,
Where squats the hare, to terrors wide awake,
Like some brown clod the harrows failed to break.
Opening their golden caskets to the sun,
The buttercups make schoolboys eager run,
To see who shall be first to pluck the prize -
Up from their hurry, see, the skylark flies,
And o'er her half-formed nest, with happy wings
Winnows the air, till in the cloud she sings,
Then hangs a dust-spot in the sunny skies,
And drops, and drops, till in her nest she lies,
Which they unheeded passed - not dreaming then
That birds which flew so high would drop agen
To nests upon the ground, which anything
May come at to destroy. Had they the wing
Like such a bird, themselves would be too proud,
And build on nothing but a passing cloud!
As free from danger as the heavens are free
From pain and toil, there would they build and be,
And sail about the world to scenes unheard
Of and unseen - Oh, were they but a bird!
So think they, while they listen to its song,
And smile and fancy and so pass along;
While its low nest, moist with the dews of morn,
Lies safely, with the leveret, in the corn.
John Clare
Gone but not forgotten
Best person i've ever known
Inspiration, now and always
Been 12 years today since i've seen you Dad, thanks for my life and all you taught me, see you again one day, not yet though, one B!G round to do in the lakes first mate
The Moon by William Topaz McGonagall
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou seemest most charming to my sight;
As I gaze upon thee in the sky so high,
A tear of joy does moisten mine eye.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the Esquimau in the night;
For thou lettest him see to harpoon the fish,
And with them he makes a dainty dish.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the fox in the night,
And lettest him see to steal the grey goose away
Out of the farm-yard from a stack of hay.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the farmer in the night,
and makes his heart beat high with delight
As he views his crops by the light in the night.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the eagle in the night,
And lettest him see to devour his prey
And carry it to his nest away.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the mariner in the night
As he paces the deck alone,
Thinking of his dear friends at home.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the weary traveller in the night;
For thou lightest up the wayside around
To him when he is homeward bound.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the lovers in the night
As they walk through the shady groves alone,
Making love to each other before they go home.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the poacher in the night;
For thou lettest him see to set his snares
To catch the rabbit and the hares.
Awwww, that's lovely Steve...and he'll be with you all the way :thumbup:Gone but not forgotten
Best person i've ever known
Inspiration, now and always
Been 12 years today since i've seen you Dad, thanks for my life and all you taught me, see you again one day, not yet though, one B!G round to do in the lakes first mate
Like that Xrunner...the moon sure is impressive lately!
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