Lets make a poem

[Guest The Big Fish]

There once was a fellow named Slattery

Who was fond of a course-gyro battery,

With that 50-volt shock,

What was left of his cock

Was all slimy and sloppy and spattery

[Nell 1]

Humpty Dumpty sat on a rock,

Little Bo Peep was sucking his c*ck,

As soon as he came,

She started to weep,

For she could tell by the taste,

He'd been f*****g her sheep!

Edited November 8, 2007 by Nell

[wag 13]

mary had a little lamb its fleece was all white and wispy,then it caught foot and mouth now its all black and crispy

[Guest The Big Fish]

Miss Mary had a little lamb,

The little lamb is dead,

She carried it to school each day

Between two slices of bread...

[Guest The Big Fish]

Mary had a little lamb

It ran into a pylon.

10,000 volts went up it's arse

and turned it's wool to nylon

[Malt 379]

You beat me to that one, TBF!

 

There was a young maid from Aberystwyth,

who had some rye to grist with.

The miller's son Jack,

layed her on her back,

and they united the organs they pissed with.

Edited November 8, 2007 by maltenby

[Guest NICOLA]

KEEP EM COMING FELLAS IM IN STITCHES

[wood smoke 0]

The hunting life is my new comfort zone,

whenever iam out i rush to get home,

i used to do a bit of woodland mooching enjoy fishing

and pheasant shooting,

now thats all compleatly gone all i do now is just log on.

 

from rimfires and shotguns right down to bull breeds

the hunting life fullfills all my needs,

i sometimes post topics from time to time

ive got one in cooking its all about flies !

its been there for days but theres still no

replys.

 

but whats got me hooked why iam nearly divorced

why the kids dont know me like they did before,

why iam always distracted why i just cant THINK !!!

cos i need to know will D.S ever catch that

MINK !

[sureshot 0]

Quality

[sureshot 0]

There was an old man from Calcutta,

who was having a wank in the gutter.

a woman walked by

got spunk in her eye

and thought it was Irelands best butter

[Guest dingle]

YOU LOT SHOULD BE ON TV

[mole catcher 1]

IVE BEEN A MUFF DIVER FOR MANY A YEAR

IVE SPENT ALL MY MONEY ON MUFF DIVING GEAR.

THE SNORKLE,

THE FLIPPERS,

THE MUFF DIVING TANK.

AND WHEN IM NOT DIVING IM HAVING A WANK

[mole catcher 1]

Alfred Noyes (1880-1958)

The Highwayman

 

PART ONE

 

I

 

THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

And the highwayman came riding—

Riding—riding—

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

 

II

 

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,

A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;

They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!

And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,

His pistol butts a-twinkle,

His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

 

III

 

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,

And he tapped with his whip on the shuters, but all was locked and barred;

He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there

But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,

Bess, the landlord's daughter,

Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

 

IV

 

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked

Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;

His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,

But he loved the landlord's daughter,

The landlord's red-lipped daughter,

Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

 

V

 

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,

But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;

Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,

Then look for me by moonlight,

Watch for me by moonlight,

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

 

VI

 

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,

But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand

As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;

And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,

(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)

Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.

 

 

 

PART TWO

 

I

 

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;

And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,

When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,

A red-coat troop came marching—

Marching—marching—

King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.

 

II

 

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,

But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;

Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!

There was death at every window;

And hell at one dark window;

For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

 

III

 

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;

They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!

"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her.

She heard the dead man say—

Look for me by moonlight;

Watch for me by moonlight;

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

 

IV

 

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!

She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!

They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,

Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,

Cold, on the stroke of midnight,

The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

 

V

 

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!

Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,

She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;

For the road lay bare in the moonlight;

Blank and bare in the moonlight;

And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .

 

VI

 

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;

Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?

Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,

The highwayman came riding,

Riding, riding!

The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

 

VII

 

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!

Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!

Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,

Then her finger moved in the moonlight,

Her musket shattered the moonlight,

Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

 

VIII

 

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood

Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!

Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear

How Bess, the landlord's daughter,

The landlord's black-eyed daughter,

Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

 

IX

 

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,

With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!

Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,

When they shot him down on the highway,

Down like a dog on the highway,

And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

 

* * * * * *

 

X

 

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,

When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,

When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

A highwayman comes riding—

Riding—riding—

A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

 

XI

 

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;

He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;

He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there

But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,

Bess, the landlord's daughter,

Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

 

 

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

NOW THATS A POEM

[Kay 3,709]

IVE BEEN A MUFF DIVER FOR MANY A YEAR

IVE SPENT ALL MY MONEY ON MUFF DIVING GEAR.

THE SNORKLE,

THE FLIPPERS,

THE MUFF DIVING TANK.

AND WHEN IM NOT DIVING IM HAVING A WANK

 

that is no way hunting related but its funny though

[Kay 3,709]

The hunting life is my new comfort zone,

whenever iam out i rush to get home,

i used to do a bit of woodland mooching enjoy fishing

and pheasant shooting,

now thats all compleatly gone all i do now is just log on.

 

from rimfires and shotguns right down to bull breeds

the hunting life fullfills all my needs,

i sometimes post topics from time to time

ive got one in cooking its all about flies !

its been there for days but theres still no

replys.

 

but whats got me hooked why iam nearly divorced

why the kids dont know me like they did before,

why iam always distracted why i just cant THINK !!!

cos i need to know will D.S ever catch that

MINK !

 

brilliant