a bit of versebay_state_magiOctober 19 2005, 20:30:17 UTC
Said the scowling thief to the sailor "Our Devon is doing not well, There's a bundle of demons assail her, And decency seems to compell,
"That we in our infinite knowings, and plottings and doings and dones, Turn round all these dastardly goings, and switch all bad here-ings to gones."
Said the sailor to that crooked fellow, "I would sooner have boiled my bum, Than to hear that old mermaid a-bellow, And have our old beauty be glum."
So they turned their prow roundabout down, To the places where Devons assemble, Where all the pale glooms can be found, There our heroine sits, all a-tremble.
And about her there swells like a swelling (not all similes are top-notch), Said the sailor, "Let's hold off the telling, For the only good rhyme here is crotch."
So, despite that they wasted a quatrain, (It was not, after all, quite their fault), They came to where down our poor Devon had lain, And there brought their ship to a halt.
Said the sailor, "what ails you?" Said the thief "what's the deal?" Is it some soulish ague? Are you sure it's quite real?"
Said Devon: "I must say I did not quite expect the Spanish Inquisition...
DRAMATIC NOISE!!
The almost never expected Spanish Inquisition: NOOOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief element is suprise! That, and a...
Said the sailor: "I'm sorry but church is right out" And added the crook: "At least speak in rhyme" Said Devon: "Lay off with your jumping about, Iambic pentamter, try to keep time!"
The still unexpected though poetically out of place Spanish Inquisition: Well, uh, sorry about all this. Guess we're poetically out of place, though still, I dare say, rather unexpected. Guess we'll be going. Looking forward to seeing you again. You won't be. Right then, cheerio.
::exeunt Inquisition, followed by free verse, blank verse, and most prose::
But Devon, despite all the hullabaloo Was not one step closer to "good, thank you, sir," Or "dandy, I'll take her," and "oh toodaloo," And "Right then, good sailor, I'll sail with you, sure."
Now the crook stole a muffin and stood on his head, And the sailor he charted the lines on her hand, And declared that his partner, a great watershed, Was needed for beansprouts in this his new land.
Then the crook stole the space in between of her nails, While the sailor sailed thrice round the rim of her navel, And the thief pawned off all of that space to avail The purchase of sex (tons!) and other things naval.
But, while the two were engaged in a hamlet programe, Somewhere between her spleen and her shadow, Devon exclaimed that this seemed all a sham, Said "you sailor are no helpful fellow."
But the settlement programs! Concave and convex, Paried the sailor in marine agitation, And the thief mentioned also the importance of sex (tons), How even now that was on ration.
"Our Devon is doing not well,
There's a bundle of demons assail her,
And decency seems to compell,
"That we in our infinite knowings,
and plottings and doings and dones,
Turn round all these dastardly goings,
and switch all bad here-ings to gones."
Said the sailor to that crooked fellow,
"I would sooner have boiled my bum,
Than to hear that old mermaid a-bellow,
And have our old beauty be glum."
So they turned their prow roundabout down,
To the places where Devons assemble,
Where all the pale glooms can be found,
There our heroine sits, all a-tremble.
And about her there swells like a swelling
(not all similes are top-notch),
Said the sailor, "Let's hold off the telling,
For the only good rhyme here is crotch."
So, despite that they wasted a quatrain,
(It was not, after all, quite their fault),
They came to where down our poor Devon had lain,
And there brought their ship to a halt.
Said the sailor, "what ails you?"
Said the thief "what's the deal?"
Is it some soulish ague?
Are you sure it's quite real?"
Said Devon: "I must say I did not quite expect
the Spanish Inquisition...
DRAMATIC NOISE!!
The almost never expected Spanish Inquisition: NOOOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief element is suprise! That, and a...
Said the sailor: "I'm sorry but church is right out"
And added the crook: "At least speak in rhyme"
Said Devon: "Lay off with your jumping about,
Iambic pentamter, try to keep time!"
The still unexpected though poetically out of place Spanish Inquisition: Well, uh, sorry about all this. Guess we're poetically out of place, though still, I dare say, rather unexpected. Guess we'll be going. Looking forward to seeing you again. You won't be. Right then, cheerio.
::exeunt Inquisition, followed by free verse, blank verse, and most prose::
But Devon, despite all the hullabaloo
Was not one step closer to "good, thank you, sir,"
Or "dandy, I'll take her," and "oh toodaloo,"
And "Right then, good sailor, I'll sail with you, sure."
Now the crook stole a muffin and stood on his head,
And the sailor he charted the lines on her hand,
And declared that his partner, a great watershed,
Was needed for beansprouts in this his new land.
Then the crook stole the space in between of her nails,
While the sailor sailed thrice round the rim of her navel,
And the thief pawned off all of that space to avail
The purchase of sex (tons!) and other things naval.
But, while the two were engaged in a hamlet programe,
Somewhere between her spleen and her shadow,
Devon exclaimed that this seemed all a sham,
Said "you sailor are no helpful fellow."
But the settlement programs! Concave and convex,
Paried the sailor in marine agitation,
And the thief mentioned also the importance of sex (tons),
How even now that was on ration.
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