Duelling doggerel!

The contest was won by the team from Imperial College
Who beat the team from Oxford in the field of general knowledge
A very hard-won victory, and a very lively fight
They needed luck with questions, as well as being bright

Greetings, all herein
From one feeling somewhat all in
A wandering refugee
From that apogee
Of cognitive dissonance,
Bizarre and cranky nonsense
I speak of .... Keanuville
There is all moot, cavil
It be haunted, spooked
It be spectred, mooked
A town of chilly hoary Ghosts
A pack of ghoulish, spectral Posts
Trap the innocent, unway
E'en such as me - every-chary
Of the Strange and Unknown
Where'er I wander alone..

Small welcome did I find in ther
Instead ('tis true, I swear)
Was I harried, harassed, hexed :wink:
Became I then rightly vexed
By the Ghosting
Of that haunting Hosting

I'd no notion, no, not a clue
They be Vampyres needing flesh anew
Poster, Imposters, Iagos all!
Almost - almost I say! - did I fall
But - just in time! - stepped from the brink
And skidded out of that ice-rink

So I warn ye, all are sane
Stay away: 'tis wolfsbane
Unwholesome, un-nutritious
Yet hath Mystery - always delicious
to such as I who seek not Answers
Fellow Jesters, Jokers, Chancers

Oh thou above, McTag the Scot
I know thee not, not who nor what
But thou has substance, as a buzzard
Thlus I'd venture, even hazard
If not by me art thou measured
I'd say thy wife is yet much-pleasured! :wink:

Gosh what an entrance, I'm gobsmacked
This debut rhyme took me aback
What an opus, goodness me
Surely some kind of apogee
Good on yer, matey, take a rest
Whatever it was, you've passed the test

Whoa!

Duelling Doggerel
'Whoa!' Thou sayst? I am PERFECTLY CALM!
I come in here, for sweetness and balm
But yet should I warn ye: I'm Irish and quick*
LIke the Scots and the Brits, love taking the Mick!

*a typo: I meant 'thick'......

I see you were calm
like a coconut palm
swaying gently in the breeze
but you did say you like
to take a Mick or a Mike
out of any UK-er you sees

And my ancestors were Picts
So I'll be warning you now
That revenge is me middle name
So if you'll be wanting more Micks
You'll be telling me how
Or you'll be winding up the same.

Oh the Irish do everything gaily
Or else they employ a shillelagh
My best friends are Irish
I find them inspirish
In fact I depend on them daily

The limerick's one of their notions
The poteen is some of their potions
From Erin's green isle
They've verve, dash and style
Just a few some specialise in explosions

Aaaah....I see from replies
Both witty and wise
I am in damn fine company
Duellers smart,
Ye give me good heart
After that chaotic, dinsome timpanii

I see from your quips
YOur words like whips
Ye are given to whacking a fool dearly
BEfore anymore thrips
Or Freudian shlips
Say I: TG I didn't leave school early!

(Wouldn't stand a chance in here udderwoise!)

How come Doggerel(1)'s posts are stuck at three?
That's a mystery
To me.
The posting counter is at fault
Obviously
And close encounters with the malt
Would surely be
An outcome were we to meet
Along O'Connell Street

It's Henry Street that I've been and liked
A right fascinating collection of stuff
From hawkers to beggars with hair all spiked
And girls selling 'a bit of the rough'

I'd go back in a minute, get right in it, you see
For my love of the street, and the variety
is writ on my face as plain as plain can be

Mame, your fair and pleasant face
At one time shone
For all to see
Enlightening our miserable existences
From off the page
You favoured us with your posts
And with much more
And now the luscious lips
Lingering, a memory
Of what once was
The woman, entire
Tempting, mocking, enticing
Reminding us
Of what we once had
Yet had not

You've a way with words, kind sir
Oh you make me blush
You've warmed the cockles of my heart
You're a gallant gent, for sure
And your phrasing is such
That you and Frost I can't tell apart!

McT's got a way with the ladies
And with his words as well
I bet all the females in his neck of the woods
Think he's a gentleman, a swell
He's got class and distinction
and a style all his own
Commodities in danger of extinction
As the youth of today has shown.

Dear Mame, what can I say,
About your comments sent away-
Your lips are bright,
And scarlett red,
Focused upon the unsaid.

Not much left besides the poems
Of left over emotion dropped in storms.
A bright young face thats best at base-
Is now left alone, but not in disgrace.

I have been somewhat remiss
Forgive the tardiness
The puter crashed
My hopes were dashed
Of responding ...is it ever thus?

Ah, stuck at three you say bold sir?
Allow me then to slightly stir
Thy complacency: I am not hidebound
By that number - nay, nor run aground
By numbers of another ilk
I'll weave a skein, cut the silk
From seven, ten, five or four
From eight, nine and even more
If but to demonstrate
To a reprobrate
Such as thou, who, I fear
(As one who is to thee now near)
Hath much love of toping:
Ah, but as thee, not one for moping
NO Sir! I'd take a drink anytime
Yet keep my Reason in my Rhyme

And say I too, to thee O Mame
I've heard of thee - thy noisie fame
Hath spread around the Globe ( and then some!)
They say thou art a W man, yet handsome
Who weareth lame as scales of fish
Are called by boys, 'hottie', 'dish!'
(Ah, but those lips of thine which stun
I suspect doth know the collagen!)
Such recourse I've yet evaded:
With lipstick are mine but lightsome shaded!

O Will-o'-the-wisp
Thy soft sweet lisp
Whispers as the forest sprite
If not in thy prime
Thy gentled rhyme
Hath strength beyond crude might....

In other words - perk up Sonny/Lass!

Once rhyming couplets were in favour
Now blank verse holds sway, and I can haver
Not alas, in fine Shakespearean lines
-Much more pedestrian are mines
Finely-turned quatrains are not my style
And anything at all takes me quite a while
But when it doesn't rhyme, it's a little bit easier
And so maybe my next effort will be less queasier.

very good doggy

Mct...I hope so

Hey Steve!

Don't see doing much...
get the finger out!

(No time to duel today....
shall respond tomorrow....)

Poetic license have I none
Not even just for fun
Our poet laureate
Mr Motion
Caused such commotion
By dabbling with words that grate
That banged up in the Tower was he
But him being he
And me being me
He still got paid is bloody fee
NOT ME.

(dont expect too much more of this)