The days have been hot, the nights pleasant. Lu and I are counting down the days until DO and the kids arrive.
I'm currently stuccoing but only just a little bit. I hate doing stucco more than any other remodel chore. If we do any more I'll hire it out. Seriously, stucco purely sucks.
I hope you're all enjoying the recent spate of alleged humor posts. It's a writing itch I need to scratch. I'm just purely burned out on the serious stuff. I must take a break from it lest I lose those last few remaining scraps of what little sanity I still possess. It's also charging up my writing batteries though that may be either a bad thing or good depending on how you feel about my scribblings. It makes me happy and that is enough.
In that light this poem tickles me and not in a naughty way...
Happy Sunday to you all. Eat something hot and tasty, tell a bawdy joke and kiss the one you love best. I'm going to do exactly that!
Six
Cells
I've a head like a concertina:
I've a tongue like a button-stick,
I've a mouth like an old potato,
and I'm more than a little sick,
But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard:
I've made the cinders fly,
And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink
and blacking the Corporal's eye.
With a second-hand overcoat under my head,
And a beautiful view of the yard,
O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
For "drunk and resisting the Guard!"
Mad drunk and resisting the Guard --
'Strewth, but I socked it them hard!
So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
For "drunk and resisting the Guard."
I started o' canteen porter,
I finished o' canteen beer,
But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in,
it was that that brought me here.
'Twas that and an extry double Guard
that rubbed my nose in the dirt --
But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock
and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt.
I left my cap in a public-house,
my boots in the public road,
And Lord knows where -- and I don't care --
my belt and my tunic goed;
They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away
the stripes I used to wear,
But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face,
and I think he'll keep it there!
My wife she cries on the barrack-gate,
my kid in the barrack-yard,
It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room --
it's that that cuts so hard.
I'll take my oath before them both
that I will sure abstain,
But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin,
I know I'll do it again!
With a second-hand overcoat under my head,
And a beautiful view of the yard,
Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
For "drunk and resisting the Guard!"
Mad drunk and resisting the Guard --
'Strewth, but I socked it them hard!
So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
For "drunk and resisting the Guard."
2 comments:
I love your humorous posts. They're hysterical. Sunday Kipling is awesome. Somehow there are members of my family (I might be included) who can relate to this!
Thanks Sarge!!
Post a Comment