Talk Like a Pirate

Long John Silver
Long John Silver by Robert Ingpen

 

Talk Like a Pirate

Curse ye, Robbie Newton !
Curse your lily-lubbered hide !
For thanks to ye, all pirates be
The yokels o’ the crimson sea !
We used to hail from Luton,
Or from Whitby Bay, or Morningside –
But now it’s said we’re born an’ bred
In Lynmouth, Lyme an’ Lizard Head.

From Foway to Zoyland, thar we blow
From Durdle Door to Westward Ho !

Ye scurvy-livered, timber-shivered blaggard, Robert Newton !
Ye turned us to a joke, to the folk that we be lootin’ !
Ye’d have us be a parody o’ peggy-leg an’ lock-o’-dread
Of parrot-shouldered patchy eyes fore’er a-lookin’ ’skance.
We used-a be the buccaneers o’ Buckin’ham an’ Birkenhead,
But now we’re jus’ the poxy-pillaged pirates o’ Penzance.

From Brizzle Dock to Davey Jones,
We curse your skull an’ cross your bones !

 

 

Little Miss Pinball

hyperactive
Sorry, I can’t find any details about the artist.  And it doesn’t directly realte to the poem, and the girl depicted is older…but it’s just too cool not to.

 

Little Miss Pinball

I know a young lady named Scatterfoot Sadie
Who cannot sit still for a second –
She hustles and bustles and flexes her muscles,
And scuttles whenever she’s beckoned.
Perhaps all her fidgets in feet, knees and digits
Are gyroscopes keeping her poise –
Or maybe it serves as a mask for her nerves
With her tremors all lost in the noise.

Here she comes Sadie, she buzzes and hums,
            As she zig-zags from thither to yon.
            Here she comes Sadie, and Sadie she comes,
And Sadie she goes, and she’s gone.

I know a young petal who never does settle,
Since bouncing in booties and bonnet.
I know a young rhino who wears out the lino
By clomping and pomping upon it.
I know a pied piper who’s more than just hyper –
She’s mega and giga and terra.
She’s magnitudes faster, with energies vaster
In both her success and her error.

            Here she comes Sadie, with whistles and drums,
Both skylark and trumpeter swan.
Here she comes Sadie, and Sadie she comes,
And Sadie she goes, and she’s gone.

I know a young poppet who just cannot stop it,
And never has recourse to brake.
With swings and trapezes, she’s blown on the breezes,
And whips up the wind in her wake.
There’s some folk who mention her roving attention
That points to some point of attraction,
And some folk who think that’s she’s too scared to blink
Just in case she should miss any action.

            Here she comes Sadie, all peaches and plums,
As her sweetness must sugar-rush on.
Here she comes Sadie, and Sadie she comes,
And Sadie she goes, and she’s gone.

I know a young girl who is always a-whirl,
Like her timbers are tossed on the ocean –
She dashes and darts as she stutters and starts,
And when even at rest, she’s in motion.
Her larynx is thrumming, her fingers are drumming,
Her eyeballs are to-ing and fro-ing –
Her atoms are spinning, her neurons are singing,
Her bramble-patch hair-thatch is growing.

            Here she comes Sadie, all fingers and thumbs,
As she fiddles and tinkers anon.
Here she comes Sadie, and Sadie she comes,
And Sadie she goes, and she’s gone.

I know a young missy who’s terribly busy
Upon some endeavour or other –
Her hoardings and strewings and feverish doings
Are lost upon even her mother.
She’s so all-commanding she just leaves us standing,
Awash in the glow of her starlet –
For we who are left are the warp and the weft
All throughout which she’s threading her scarlet.

            Here she comes Sadie, dispelling the glums –
She dazzles where sunlight is shone.
Here she comes Sadie, and Sadie she comes,
And Sadie she goes, and she’s gone.

 

 

 

Wiggle Wiggle

worms

 

Wiggle Wiggle

Some worms are roundworms and some worms are flat,
Some worms are skinny and some worms are fat,
Some worms are stripy and some worms are brown,
Some dress in velvet and some sport a crown,
Some feed on slurry and some feed on nuts,
Some live in gardens and some live in guts.

Some worms are serpents and some worms are bugs,
Some worms are dragons and some worms are slugs,
Some worms are speedy and some worms are slow,
Some worms are eyeless and some worms can glow.
Some on the surface and some underground,
Some worms are flatworms and some worms are round.

 

 

A Hat that Lets the Rain in

crowns

 

A Hat that Lets the Rain in

The king awoke one morning
And he couldn’t find his crown,
So he rang out for his footman
To bring forth his ermine gown,
Then ordered for the palace
To be hunted upside down –
And if it were still missing,
To send men upon the town.

His reason for such urgency
Was really very plain,
That if the king is crownless,
Then he rule goes down the drain –
For if he stands bareheaded
How will peasants know his reign ?
A king without a coronet
Is thoroughly mundane.

Fetch it !  Find it !
Capture it and mind it !
All your heads are bloody shreds
If someone has maligned it !

The soldiers rummaged ev’ry house,
And prodded ev’ry nook.
They barged upon the merchantfolk,
And half their wares they shook
Incase the prize was hid within,
Exposing crown and crook.
And if it weren’t, the goods were wrecked,
So clumsy was their look.

They burst upon the womenfolk
In most ungentle ways –
Their conduct was improper,
And their language coarse of phrase.
They entered ev’ry schoolroom,
Ev’ry salon, mill and maze.
But still it was not gainedfast,
And the town was all ablaze.

Search it !  Seek it !
Plunder it and wreak it !
All your eyes are filling pies
If somebody should sneak it !

The aldermen and dowagers
Were startled and incensed.
These worthies sought an audience,
Their grievances dispensed –
But found the King uncaring
Of the tumult he’d commenced.
They left with bitter passion
For the town to stand against –

“His majesty can issue
Any ruling or decree,
But that is all as naught to us
Who choose to disagree.
It’s time for him to realise
He’s just our employee,
And if we are unsatisfied,
It’s time to set him free.”

Pounce him !  Pry him !
Prison him and try him !
All our souls regain controls
If ev’ryone deny him !

The king awoke one morning
With his royal head uncrowned.
He spent that very evening
In cells of harsh surround.
He never understood it,
How his luck could so confound.
His coronet, in passing,
Was to never be refound.

 

 

White Knowledge

raven foot
Common Raven Foot by Glori Berry

 

White Knowledge

Hey, have you heard the news ?
It turns out ev’ry single bird,
From ducks to crows to cockatoos,
Is really just a dinosaur !
I bet you never knew before !
Oh, I guess you’ve heard…

Well, of course you have, I guess…
We all have – hey, we ain’t naive.
Some facts, it seems, we all possess,
They’re quotes that ev’rybody knows –
Apparently, it’s one of those,
Like, ‘sharks must swim to breathe’.

Like how Brazil and Timbuktoo
Have split apart and drifted.
The jigsaw that’s too-good for true,
Is really true !  And the world is round,
In space our screams won’t make a sound,
And the stars have slowly shifted.

Or how without a pinch of salt,
We’d all be quickly dead.
But sodium and chlorine halt
Our welfare quicker, if we dined
On each alone – but when combined,
We’re kept alive instead.

We know all this, we’ve known for years –
It’s just some stuff we know.
It’s been so long between our ears,
We’ve let it grow mundane –
If we forgot and learned again,
Our minds would surely blow.

But hey, not ev’rybody knows,
We all had to be told.
So someone had to first disclose
That farting fungus rises bread,
Or knocking protons out of lead
Will turn it into gold.

So someone has to spread the word,
And we could be the ones !
For someone, somewhere hasn’t heard,
And we could get to cast the spell,
And see their wonder as we tell
Of how we’re made from suns !

Lullaby

nemo
Little Nemo in Slumberland by Winsor McCay

 

Lullaby

Sleep,
Nemo, sleep,
Long and deep,
Soft and tall.

Sleep,
Slow and steep,
Nemo, sleep –
Shadows call…

Dream,
Of clowns and kings,
And lurking things
Behind the wall.

Dreams –
What brings them here ?
It’s you, my dear –
You dream them all !

Fake !
You make them up !
Let’s shake them up
And have a ball !

Quake,
And dreams will break up.
Time to wake up –
Let them fall…

Wake,
Nemo Dreamo,
Now they seem so
Strange and small.

 

 

A Logbook of Wonders

notebook

 

A Logbook of Wonders

What on earth does Philip write
Within his purple notebook, lined ?
What on earth does he record
When fascinated, moved or bored ?
What scribbles he both day and night ?
What wisdom gleaned ?  What knowledge mined ?
What does he with his pen engage
Upon the ruled and virgin page ?

What on earth does Philip cite ?
What theories turned ?  What views opined ?
Bless this ink that interweaves
The world and all between the leaves.
So happy he whose days are bright
With words to muse and thoughts to find –
Shining life, a jewellèd crown,
With endless things worth noting down.