Duelling doggerel!

Good point, Noddy24,
But this is the OTHER Loch Ness Monster.

Happy rhyming,
carlotta

Somehow, sometime it has come to mind
A rich man a fantastic find
for any young spendy lady
Let's be fair now, tho she may be shady
Tis possible men with money come to think
The lady has a price and a thirst to drink
Forgettin she be a lady, fogettin he be a gent
Dance all night, forgetting to pay the rent
They both share the ride in shame
Fully giving the other the full blame

Brilliant doggerel! We've been getting too much polish lately.

and, but

If you want to rhyme dock with loch
You'll have quite a few Jocks saying "Och!"

dock? Loch? walk?

are we talking the walk
or walking the talk
some say loch like lock
others say loke, but not a jock
Loke is not quite right talk
growl a little h on the end of that walk

and I dont know what in blue blazes I am talking about.....but I thought loch had a little more umf to it than a dock or lock. Blame it on my studying Greek or something. Okay....eeeesh

Is this a joke?
Are you giving my eye a poke?
Maybe I'll take one last toke
and jump in the nearest - loch.

Besides, I'm talking about the OTHER Loke Ness Monster.

I think I'll write about the Sasquatch next. He lives nearby.

The Scottish loch, I kid you not
You'll get the hang of it
Sounds like when you're gargling
And just before you spit

Carlotta's going to rhyme again, it's said,
But she's given herself a bloody pain in the head.
Irish, Welsh or Scotch
What the hell rhymes with Sasquatch?

A poem I'll never botch
Is one about Sasquatch.
It could be quite a hoot
To write about Bigfoot.

(and if you think that rhyming "foot" is easy -have a go!)

Well, whadya know?
I may be a little slow
But, beejeebers, I had it right
My description was a bit tight
But the "growling H" I thought was grand
Dainty compared to McTag's hacking band

If it were quite a hoot
It would take a big boot
But the gentleman, Bigfoot
That is difficult to put
Should we give him a hairy suit
Or dust him with a little soot?
Good luck with this big brute
Careful not to overshoot

What rhymes with Sasquatch?
Well, that's a bit much.
With Bigfoots and such
Who ain't easy to touch
There's many a word to clutch.

I much prefer the Yetti
Whose antics are so pretty.
Not that I wish to be petty,
But I'd prefer to be with Letty
A-settin' on a jetty.

As for that fella, Bigfoot --
Yah, you can smear him with soot.
Or serve him a glass of brut
(And that runs the whole gamut
of what I can rhyme with 'foot'.)

#1

Have you ever heard the Sasquatch sing?
It's an eerie, unnerving, elusive thing.
It's not the wail of the loon on the lake
Nor the curious hoots that the hoot owls make
Nor the distant howl of a wolf at bay
What it is is hard to say

The closest comparison I can make
Is the haunting moan of the wind thru the grate


#2

I went for a walk. It was almost dark
I wasn't thinking, you see
The bramble wood forest grew suddenly foul
When a shadow accosted me

Its powerful muskiness menaced my nose
"Get out of my bedroom," it said
I'll never go walking in those woods again
I musta been out of my head.

Hey...I did not know you met my x
Who use to live in TX

#3

Iambic pentameter has me by the throat
Doggerel experts - don't gloat!!
I'm trying my best to be bad at the game
My writing's not good but it isn't the same
kind of bad as yours

The more I write, the more you snore on
The more "bad doggerel" I pour on
(Wait! Isn't that an oxymoron?)


P.S. A lot of ex's come from Texas

I was in a bar in Tx and three really hard-bitten-looking women came in. Dear God! They were dressed up and everything, but looked about as kindly and appealing as Rosa Klebb. felt sorry for their husbands, or even their exes.

Whatever happened to your rhyme, McTag
And Tx is not exempt from holywood's drag
Earnest Borgnine would have made a better lady
Than those gents who appeared to be a little shady

Here's a good line for your fishing or writing
Poetry and prose is good for reciting
But rarely should we tell how it is made
Or reveal the reason for the rhyming crusade
Because it is a bit like eating sausage
We love the flavor of spices and sage
Quite yummy until we know what truly is in it
Too much information can ruin any good poet

okay..so I stretched for that last line....just to make a rhyme

Today feels a bit like the autumn
Or maybe I just arose too early from my cot. I'm
Not a particulary early riser
Some days I can surprise 'er
By the lateness of my slumber
Days without number.
I will go out after breakfast and test the air
And if the weatherman listens to my prayer
Summer will not have changed to autumn
We should keep these good days while we've got 'em
I'm not ready yet for season's change
Nor any major rearrange.

As to me own self, Mr. McTag,
I await autumn with my breath 'bated.
It's the summer's heat I've always hated
Since I was a lad with a beach bag.

There's some beauty in summer, true,
But nothing can match a crisp fall day
When wind raises whiteheads out on the bay
And sky and ocean are both a deep blue,

When trees dress up in gold and in red
And the air is free of mosquito whine,
When no flies 'bug' me as I try to dine
Al fresco. Well, 'nuff said.

There're those who enjoy summer's blaze.
There're those who love the snow and ice.
I don't think either one's especially nice,
Not the cold's chill, not summer's hot haze.

But autumn's ideal, just to my taste.
It's the 'golden mean' of which that Greek wrote.
All it requires is you wear a light coat.
Not too hot, not too cold, not an hour to waste.

The theater season's back in full swing.
The concert season is back on schedule
And all the kids are back in school!
"It's autumn, it's autumn!" my heart wants to sing.

[With profound apologies to all those who hate to see the summer coming to its inevitable end.]

"Never say you're sorry", apologise not
For the devil takes the hindmost, God wot
We just won the cricket, by two runs only, true,
But that's enough for the umpires, and Aussies
That's enough for you

I say "we", as a honourary Englishman
A position I take advantage of, when I can.

Congratulations, honorary English man,
Much closer than Ozzy, so you surely can -
But what a tragedy for the Scottish race
That they have no cricket in their godforsaken place.
No long summer days with the thwack of ball on willow,
Just the bleak high moors and heather for a pillow;
No leather polished up on the seat of their pants,
Just rocks, mountains, and stunted little plants;
No bowling maiden over, no short third man -
You want to claim you're English? - of course you can.

An anti-all-things Scottish pean, well I never
It's many a happy hour I've spent a-pillowed on the heather
Much pleasure to be had up there, walking on the ridges
But it helps if you're not bothered much
By clouds of pesky midges
Hill-walking's in the news today
But not for best of reasons
I go up there in winter, it's
My favourite of seasons
The scenery then can knock the spots
Off Totnes by the sea
A peat fire toasts your toes, and is
There haggis still for tea?