lonely man
i heard the bottles
clanking in your bag
lonely man
i heard the bottles
clanking in your bag
I find this picture quite impressive, although it was generated by a machine. I'd hang it on my wall. What do you think?
You can read more here
There was an old fellow called Tryg,
Who swore he would not wear a wig.
He said, my head's bare,
But why should I care?
And he went off and danced a fierce jig.
Now in my thinking and my thought
It's still better and I ought
To take the long way back through the all rain
Even as I know, I shall not visit here again.
The Sedgwick museum in Cambridge is a marvelous place for anyone that loves geology, and especially if you also love the history of the subject.
I'm on the mailing list for a local charity Camsight, who I'm thrilled to find today are discussing with Sedgwick Museum how to arrange a touch tour for the blind. This kind of initiative is what reassures me that, in the end, the human race is honorable after all.
It's love that makes the world grow round.
I've invented a new alphabet that goes straight from P to R. I call it "Jumping the queue".
Bumble bees
It's a one-way street.
You've learned nothing from me.
"Ding-Dong! Avon Calling!", said Tom in a withering manner.
"Whom put a spider down Grandma's neck is wrong, it should be 'who', not 'whom'", Tom explained grammatically.
Literally. My father had an old banjo and he liked to strum and sing. Some of the songs he sang were versions of well-known folk songs, although I didn't know it at the time, or even that there were such things as folk-songs.
A song I particularly remember is "Barbara Allen".
Twas in the merry month of May,
When green buds all were swelling.
Young Jimmy Groves on his death-bed lay.
For love of Barbara Allen.
This is a melancholy story, of love unrequited, and repentance come too late. Our own family version ends
As she was going across the fields
She heard the death bell knelling.
And stroke to her did say
Hard-hearted Barbara Allen.
Oh mother, oh mother, go dig my grave
Dig it both long and narrow.
Young Jimmy died for love of me
And I will die tomorrow.
There is real poetry there I think.
Although I had no idea about it back then, the song is in the famous collection of ballads assembled by Francis Child. The first known publication is from 1740, but Samuel Pepys in his diaries mentions what looks to be the same ballad. The Wikipedia article is very informative.
Later in my early twenties I heard Joan Baez sing the song, and I still love the way she does it. But she (and many others) add a final consolatory verse, in which the sad pair are in the end united, a rose and a briar that grow from their respective graves, and intertwine. I don't like that. It is a sad poem and best kept so.
Did you know people who 'knew their letters' were at one time consider to be dangerously clever?
They could could fascinate unschooled folk, and lead them astray, by employing dark knowledge of writing, and so these grammarians were called glamorous.
Be as that may*, here are some pre-release definitions from my upcoming book, Grammar Made Silly.
noun = occasionally, as in 'noun then'
adverb = a doing word, encouraging us to buy, as in 'save '
pronoun = singular of pronounce
conjunction = road intersection noted for the sale of genuine designer goods
* Subjunctive mood, let it be noted.
I found you can buy Pal Dog Food on eBay. So you'd be paying for Pal with PayPal.
The judge said, "To serve five years".
"Is that a proper sentence?", I asked doubtfully. "It doesn't have a finite verb".
My watch doesn't show hours or minutes. Mind you it's only second-hand.
I said "Doctor, Doctor. I keep imagining I'm a kind of irregular garden paving". She said, "You're crazy".
I don't know if you've smooched a mammoth.
If you have, then you'll know it's a hoot.
For this woolly mammal,
Twice the size of a camel,
Just adores a big kiss on its snoot.
I was expecting a helicopter to pick me up. But my chopper was axed.
Traditional cottage pie for dinner tonight. The thatch was a bit chewy, if I'm honest.
There was a young lady from Belvoir,
Who said mispronouncing would grelvoir.
She explained, "In this word,
A large rodent is heard".
But she found no-one would belelvoir.
Up on the high grassland,
Warriors lie yet unburied.
Glory.
All the kids loved the day out. Except Russ.
He was forced to run along beside the bus.
All the kids loved the helicopter flight. Except Dwight.
When you're outside, you have to cling on tight.
All the kids loved the underwater adventure. Except Jeff.
He found it hard to hold his breath.
All the kids loved the zoo trip. Except Jack.
He ended up as a snack.
All the kids enjoyed the castle visit. Except Neil.
He didn't realize the guillotine was real.
I was prosecuted for blocking a right of way. It was my defence that got me off.
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