The Etiquette of Hogwash Country
Once upon a golden morn
The day before my son was born
I wandered to the sunsoaked lea
And Little Percy shot at me
I cursed him in my loudest tone
My curses cut him to the bone
Or so it seemed, or was it guile
It mattered not this bile
He flinched, and shot a passing swan
Heavily it fell upon
A stranger on a piebald horse
Who fell head-first into the gorse
This disturbed two mating stoats
A-coupling in a field of oats
Rushing out upon the road
And ignorant of the Highway Code
They caused a passing cart to veer
And spill its load of frothing beer
Which splished just like an oak veneer
Upon a passing Cavalier
And washed away his false moustache
(There goes the poor man's fake panache)
Revealing him to be, no less,
Than a complete and total mess
'Varlet!' cried the dripping fop
"I wore that at the betting shop"
My odds came up at 10 to 1
But now I'm just a man to shun"
And so the moral's plain to see
If you'd stride out in manner free
Keep your pate frome fleas quite clean
And one day you may meet the Queen
And if this lesson's not enough
Young Percy can become quite rough
And dish upon your furrowed brow
The remnants of a long-dead cow
So call your travel agent soon
At any rate, before monsoon
But my passport is mislaid
My welcome has been overstayed
At dawns break, my quest begins
Into the water, with my unnatural fins
Behind my back - as whose should not be! -
Sneaks Little Percy's Cavalry!
Where is our saviour, our General Custer
I need to call my stock adjuster
With sound advice He may save me
Or board the train designed for gravy
But Hark! The whistle blows at last
Echoing through the mountains vast
But ask ye not for loveless grace
I must depart with much haste
Having only had a tiny taste
| Contributors: | Grayman, P, The Agent Apsley, TG, Karl Mamer, Spawn of Rippy, Rips, El Tel, Rip. |
| Poem finished: | 20th August 1999. |