Stumblor

Friday, September 7, 2007

Cap't Buzzkill and the Aftermath

[Buzz and Cold Pimpin' are in an alehouse, at the business end of beery afternoon]





An' ye know what tha' worst thing is? She's gone an' put a restrainin' order on me. I canne' contact 'er even if aye wanted too!







To be fair, you did attempt to feed her to the crocodiles.








Aye merely ORDERED it, ya' lily livered genteel!







I'm afraid, good sir, that in her eyes the difference may be negligible.






She bloomin' got away, didn't she? So where's the 'arm? Ay've been tryin' ta' think of another way of talkin to 'er, you know, to tell 'er bout me feelins'. So aye wrote 'er a poem, aye did.






Oh capital. Please impart your distilled wisdom on mine ears sir, though I surely consider them unworthy to receive the impending script.






Put a cork in it ya' dandy, and jus' 'av a listen.




let go me son, let go, aye say
for rope stretched taught will break
those learn'd knots will fault aye say
regardless sweet sail make

ye boughs are warped
ye keel askew
ye mast bereft asunder

tha' water leaks
tha' floorboards creek
tha' crew make known their wonder

'oo knows these tides that break our front
each wave widows anew,
of monsoon scale
this evenin' gail
that 'opefuls sail into









Rubbish.










Aye think me metaphor might be a
lit'le 'eavy 'anded.











I think you should give serious consideration to never writing poetry again. Tell me, have you given limericks a crack? I believe their construct might be a little more malleable to your talents.










Ta' be 'onest, it be an old poem anyway, so aye prob'ly shouldna' use it. Aye just dunne' know what else ta' do mate.










Listen, my fish fouled friend, I have a proposal. Quite recently I have become the sole proprietor to a large fortune of engagingly proportioned 'hoes'. Perhaps you would consider accompanying me to get 'jiggy'? It has been my experience that nothing settles a partitioned mind quite like the embrace of a well endowed biatch.









Nay, nay. Ye a generous soul, aye grant ya', but me mind shan't know no rest until its 'ad its parlay.









Well said sir. Perhaps then, you might consider breaking your silence and just talking to the maiden?









An' say what exac'ly? That me bones ache to tha' point of agony from tha' drought that 'er absence 'as created? That aye'd do anything ta' be with 'er? Cap't rowboats for a livin', 'ave a 'alfwit theivin' scoundrel for a boson an' ne'er speak a word to 'er but 'appy ones?








Well, quite, although perhaps with one or two less pirate references. The sentiment is nice though.











Ay've always 'ad a 'abit of 'oldin that "to 'ave an' to 'old" 'oo 'aa in 'igh esteem.













Never would have guessed.

3 comments:

eleanor bloom said...

Bloody handy to know those restraining orders work on pirates.

That me bones ache to tha' point of agony... etc has been tried on me before. Didn't work (could've been the distraction of the funny hat tho).

Luverlee poetry davey me lad.

Milly Moo said...

Beautiful work, Davey. You'll find another fair wench ta make ye bones ache....

davey said...

Thanks guys. x