Allspice
Turmeric and ginger,
Cumin, mustard, mace,
Red-hot chilli peppers,
With cardamom to taste,
Cinnamon, paprika,
And nutmeg makes it sweet,
White pepper, black pepper,
Turning up the heat.
Allspice
Category: Folksongs
Limb-Slungs & Beam-Shanks
Limb-Slungs & Beam-Shanks
Some daddy-longlegs are spiders in cellars,
And some daddy-longlegs are leg-craning flies.
Some are strange scorpings who walk in the harvest,
But all have more leg than they should for their size.
Some daddy-longlegs are tip-toeing fellers,
And some daddy-longlegs are mummies-on-stilts.
Some have evolved from their cousins the farthest,
But all are as lanky as when they were built.
Shaggy Legs
Shaggy Legs
One stocking, two stocking, three stocking, four,
All hanging on the chimney-breast, drying from the hoar
In the last of the embers of the evening’s sycamore –
While their would-be wearers are upstairs a-snore.
One stripy, one chequey, one polka-dot,
And one of them chunky with a Celtic knot.
Here and there are patches, where the wool is shot,
To keep their feet safe from the Winter as they trot.
One mini, two midi, one bigger skin,
Though all of them kiddie-sized, toe-tip to shin.
Yet looking rather empty here with no legs within,
Are four half-pairs – but where are their kin ?
One two three and a fourth is the score,
Though I wonder why they hung up the footwear they wore ?
Placed by the fire where no-one can ignore
Are one stocking, two stocking, three stocking, four.
Wonderlust
Klepto by Stuart Dunkel
Wonderlust
When does a walk become a hike ?
When does a saunter start to stride ?
Upon how many trails must I strike
Before I get to the other side ?
When does a trek become a wander ?
When does a road not lead to Rome ?
Upon how many paths must I ponder
Before I get to go back home ?
The Bootymen’s Air
The Bootymen’s Air
There is, it’s said, a pirate ship
That haunts the Caribbean.
Or does she sail the Orient,
Or pilot the Aegean ?
Was ever there a stranger craft
On which men went to sea on ?
No-one seems to know her name,
For all she rides the swell.
Some say she’s The Banshee,
Some The Siren, some The Belle,
Perhaps there’s plenty meet with her,
But none who live to tell.
Yet one fact all agree on,
Is you hear her when she nears,
By a slow and lonely singing
That the ozone brings our ears –
And a world away from the racket
Of the usual pirate jeers.
They claim that it’s her figurehead
Who keens upon the waves –
That is, it is the ship herself
And not her crew of knaves,
As she bares down on the helpless souls
And sings them to their graves.
But eerier yet, her voice, they say,
Will echo off the sea,
And bounce upon the clouds and back
While the breeze blows in her key,
She sounds from all directions,
And in perfect harmony.
So if you ever catch a snatch
Of ghostly murmurings,
And if your hold is full of coin
And fingers full of rings –
Then pray it’s just the whistling wind,
And not the ship who sings.
Uh-Oh
Uh-Oh
The clock is ticking,
Fuse is lit –
So no more bricking,
This is it !
Oh no,
There’s still a long and rocky road to go.
Let’s chomp down on the bit,
For we’ll never get to reap unless we sow.
The walls are shaking,
Floor’s on fire,
The news we’re breaking’s
Looking dire –
Whoa-whoa,
Looks like we’ll have to take this blow-by-blow.
For if we don’t aspire
Then we’ll never overcome the status quo.
Our spirit’s flagging,
Muscles cramp,
Our mojo’s sagging,
Powder’s damp –
How so ?
We’ve faced the ebb, now let’s surge with the flow !
So up-and-at-em champ,
Cos when danger’s high, it’s too late to lie low..
We’re all we’ve got,
Let’s try somehow,
The iron’s hot,
The time is now !
Heigh-ho,
Let’s buckle-up and get on with the show.
It’s time to give this world some wow
And leave behind a golden afterglow !
A Fingerful of Fool’s Gold
A Fingerful of Fool’s Gold
They can’t tell, and I don’t tell ’em,
But my wedding ring is stainless steel.
Recycled from an old tin can –
It may be fake, but it’s just as real.
You see this diamond ? That ain’t no diamond,
That’s a cubic or I’m a liar –
She does the job in her own sweet way,
What she lacks in sparkle, she makes in fire.
She’ll last twenty, might last thirty,
Before she’s looking as cloudy as me.
They say she has no resale value,
But which of us has, once we’ve lost the key ?
On-sale and off-brand – he knows me well,
As a contra-flow goat among the sheep –
To win some brides will cost you the Earth,
But I came so gloriously cheap.
Rockabye Lullabye
Rockabye Lullabye
Sleep now,
I’ll wake you
If something should happen.
Best grab it
As it grabs you,
And blow your light out.
Breathe now
Like beach waves,
Let deltas come lapping,
Enjoy it
While you’ve got it,
There’s some go without.
Sleep now,
I’ll wake you,
But not till the morning.
Best welcome
The dreaming,
And dream one for me.
Breathe now,
Like purring,
Until the new dawning.
Enjoy it,
You’ve earned it,
And it all comes for free.
Gotcha !
Gotcha !
Tag, goes the virus,
And suddenly, I’m it,
Chasing, and panting,
And laughing, and transmit.
No rules for no-backsies,
It’s free-for-all, all day
No sitting this one out,
We’re all of us in-play.
They say this game is older
Than ancient Babylon.
I’ve given you my secret –
Pass it on.
Oak Apple Day
Oak Apple Day
Little wasp, little wasp,
Laying eggs upon the tree –
Sting the one who would be king,
And sting him once again for me.
Little worm, little worm,
Wriggling in your swollen gall –
Bite the one who’s cowering,
And bite him twice for one and all.
But oh !, you’ve gone and birthed a hornet,
Let loose on us worker bees –
And king or queen, or brutal drone,
They sting the same – just ask the trees !
To rid us of a coronet
Will always leave behind a gall.
The buttocks mould to fit the throne –
The canker ripens, warts and all.
Rhyming Couplets 