Carradale

[Beachcomber]

even time-served Soogans and clueless goats.

Oi! I resemble that remark!

[Right Pongal]

even time-served Soogans and clueless goats.

Oi! I resemble that remark!

No Beachcomber, you were no where near here during the Crechan Klondyke...... Not unless you were residing at the point! But if you insist on the resemblance and if the cap fits, then pull it right down over yer ears.

Thon Witchnettle is getting wild and fresh wae the Bochan. She's maybe biting off more than she can chew wae that one. There's Spitfires and Hurricanes circling overhead and all carrying a payload that would frighten the French. I would say that Morenish's shed would be a better proposition. They say that he has mirrors on the inside of all them doors. If you enter thon pleasure palace, you certainly don't know whether you're coming or going! The only thing is that you need to come prepared, as Sanyanya survives on the meagerest of rations, but then again, its in his jeans! or was it genes.

Anyway, I'm away to my bed to try and get me eyes shut before Humphlock starts typing on here. She made a right din the other night and I thought she was going to take a palloory at the point when they stole the punt from the quay. She's maybe burnt herself out for a while, but who knows!

[Humphlock]

Don't go tae yer bed yit, Pongal. Ah'm late the night because I wiz strugglin tae make an avatar, but it's no workin so here's a wee pome.

It's great the verses we got the day from Right Pongle and Bochan Mor.
They certainly show up Humphlock's attempt as worthy only tae wipe the floor.
We'll soon have a wee anthology, I'm telling ye, it's a fact
Wal and Mrs Mitchison had better watch their backs.


I promise I'll stop the rhyming soon. In fact, here's a wee poem that doesn't rhyme at all.

The toad and the puddock went to sea in a beautiful clinker-built punt
Although it was risky, they took a bottle of whisky which the puddock hid in her carrier-bag
The toad pulled away to his heart's content till they were just off the Pluck
Then they dropped the anchor and shipped the oars and indulged in a hasty fairycake.

Sorry.

That's me feenished.

[morenish]

ach theres nothing like the old love songs, di ye's mind calum kennedy singing caillean mo ruin só?
man there was nobody like him at that

o caillean mo ruin só s'leannan mo ghradh
how charming you looked dear when i pulled off your bra
my ***** full of hardness and yearning for you
lie down here my darling and we'll have a quick ...............

RIGHT that'll do o that, it'll soon be the sabath

[Bochan Mor]

I can see Morenish that we're going to have to keep an eye on you. All this talk of dockin smoking and mirrors is going to yir head. Sanyanya was telling me that you even have one of those disca balls suspended from the ceiling and that you get him to flash torches at it as you dance to Calum Kennedy and the Alexander Brothers.

All I can say, is I hope that the floor of your shed is as stout as my own, otherwise Snoddy will have his hands full in the Trumpton casualty dept and the villages finest will probably have to attend with cutting equipment to cut yourself and Ditchnettle out of the wreckage.

Have you any preference which door we carry you out???

[Right Pongal]

The toad pulled away to his heart's content till they were just off the Pluck
Then they dropped the anchor and shipped the oars and indulged in a hasty fairycake.

Sorry.

That's me feenished.

Your a hell of a thing all together Humphlock wae yir Cock-ney rhyming slang. I thought for a minute I was going to have to avert Mrs Pongal's half moon glesses, her being of a delicate disposition. With the baker's shop now selling strong liquor at the heart of the village, there's not the same excitement in getting the bus driver to drop off bottles in brown paper bags. I suppose though that if you're rowing out to the Crubhan to consume it, then there's still a bit of subterfuge involved.

Going by your recent submissions, it seems that life as a toad is not as bad as you would think. Well at least he got his fairycake, albeit that he added a few more callouses to his hands in the process.

I did notice a toad appearing in a forklift truck. Hopefully he's naw thinking of parking it on here!

[Humphlock]

I did notice a toad appearing in a forklift truck. Hopefully he's naw thinking of parking it on here!

Aye, I thought his poem "Ribbit, ribbit" wiz a wee bit minimalist, although ye canna fault his rhyme scheme. Is that whit the Japanese call a haiku or somethin? Now there's a challenge - a Carradalian haiku. Watch this space.

[cuach]

Thanks for clarifyin the names o' the wids, Sarid. Ah wiz niver right sure which wiz which - except for your Airds wid. Ah wiz walkin' roon the side o' the school the other day an ah heard wee voices comin' oot o' the wid behind the school so the wee ones must be playin' in them sometimes. Ah wonder if they make huts from stickin' in bits o' willow branches and bendin' them over like we did. Ah think that wiz quite inventive.

[Humphlock]

Ah've been reading up on the rules of haiku poetry (three lines of five, seven and five syllables, no rhymes, kinna poignant). Here's ma first attempt at a Carradale wan:

----------------------------------------

Changed days, boys, changed days
No' a herring to be had
Aye, thing o' the past.

----------------------------------------


I managed to keep puddocks oot o' it, but it wiz a struggle. Embdy else having a go? Come on Bochan and Pongal.

[Right Pongal]

The herring fleet sold down the river
Left to celluloid and hindsight
Yachts and brambles wont carry us all

[general jack o'niell]

bottom of the class

you had seven then eight then

another eight to finish it

[Right Pongal]

I'm not keen on this Hake oo poetry, I nearly threw in a couple of fairycakes!

[chuckiebay]

Ah lake the Big Bay

Ah lake it more thun Portrigh

Portrigh's too stoney.

[Snoddy]

Smoking dockens sends you droll, leaves your winkie hanging small.
Try crechans in strong peat smoke, better than Viagra say the Tormohr folk.
Bochan Cheese was all the rage, but the CN smokehouse has turned the page.

Sliperene on Morenish's shed floor, entices Witchnettle back for Mhor.
Humphlock's puddocks reached Chuckie Bay, only to find that she'd gone away.
SARID's anagram gives no clue, to the origin of Spangles or you know who.

Pongal's manners and social grace, in Trumpton village have no place
History and boats in the Bochans head, would suit him better to get to bed.
Goodness gracious who finished that gin, Sanyanya, you'd better hide the bottle in the neighbours bin!

Here comes Lady Snoddy of Dalintober, I'd better git to my bed! hick!

[bubbly jock]

Bochan Mor wrote:
Lets hope they come back to the shore, and make the village great once more.



Aye your right. Can't see it though. A shoal of herring is as rare these days as a local accent on the Lifeboat Committee in Campbeltown.

Must be some sort of status symbol for the incomers.

bubbly