147. Weather Forecast

The Australian Aborgine has a legendary link to the land and the elements. Other Australians respect this, but I don't think anyone could object to this lighthearted joke.

WEATHER FORECAST

An Aboriginal Elder was approached by the younger clan,

For he was an old, respected and traditional type of man.

'Tell us' said the young ones,'What will the weather be?

You forecast it year after year with the utmost certainty.

If the winter will be chilly we must gather lots of fuel,

For a winter in the outback without heating can be cruel.'

'Give me time' said the Elder,'I'll give the matter thought.

Come back and see me tomorrow and I'll give you my report.'

Now, sad to say, the Elder was growing rather old,

And he found that future weather-patterns could not be foretold.

He looked up to the heavens and he saw the starry sky

And he looked down to the earth below, which was brown and baked and dry,

But neither told a story of the winter on its way,

And he wondered what he could announce to his fellows the next day.

Suddenly, a great idea! He'd ring up and find out!

The Bureau of Meteorology would know without a doubt.

The phone booth was on the highway; it was not too far away,

So, under cover of darkness, it was there he made his way.

The response was not too certain. 'It could be cold' they said.

So he formed a plan of action and rehearsed it in his head.

Sure enough, the young men came around and questioned him next morning.

'It will be cold. Collect the wood' that was the Elder's warning.

So sure enough, the younger men began collecting wood

And built their piles as wide and high as anybody could.

Each day they went out foraging. The bush was soon denuded!

The Elder started worrying; were they being deluded?

So, once again, he made his way to the local telephone,

Feeling a little nervous as he heard the dialling-tone.

' Are you certain that the winter will be very, very cold?'

He asked the Bureau Boffins, only to be told

'The winter will be bitter; the worst for many a year!

Our scientific evidence makes that absolutely clear!'

'But how' the Elder asked them ' Can you be so very sure?

You weren't so very certain when I questioned you before!'

'We have it on the very best of information, friend.

Our satellites view lands up North to find the latest trend.

The Aborigines in the bush know weather, good and bad,

And I tell you, sir, we've noticed they're collecting wood like mad!'

Still Waiting!

STILL WAITING

I know I'm not good looking and I know I've had my day,

But I've had a most romantic life...... well, in a sort of way.

I met him at Luna Park one night, when I was just sixteen,

And his lovely Yanky accent made me feel just like a queen.

His hair was thick with Brylcreme and his uniform was smart,

And his fascinating accent stole away my girlish heart.

He bought me lovely nylons and delicious chewing gum,

And I knew that he was serious, so I took him home to mum.

My mum thought he was gorgeous and I knew that he liked her,

And we had a little giggle when he called my father 'Sir'!

I broke with my old boyfriend, Kevin, from down our street;

He was no match for Marvin! How could he compete?

Marvin was so immaculate, so dashing, so divine!

Marvin was so romantic and Marvin was truly mine.

He told me about America and the wonders that were there,

And he said he liked Veronica Lake, so that's how I did my hair.

He told me about his Cadillac and his Oil Wells and his Yacht,

And he said that they would all be mine the day we tied the knot.

Oh yes, he said he loved me and I adored him back,

And I dreamed of driving through my life in his great white Cadillac.

We planned a thrilling future with a Hollywood honeymoon,

And it seemed to me our wedding day couldn't come too soon.

But VJ day arrived instead and Marvin had to go!

He sailed into the sunset, almost a lifetime ago.

Since then, I've just been waiting, patiently, day by day.

I've never looked at another man. Is he faithful, the same way?

I admit he doesn't write much! ...... Well, he never writes at all.

And he's never, ever phoned me. But one day I'll get that call.

He may look a little different; there may be a touch of grey;

He may even have a little paunch, but I'll love him anyway.

I've been retired a while now and I've got a little flat,

And I lead a very happy life with my budgie and my cat.

Some folk have their grandkids that they talk about with pride,

But I have memories to keep and treasure deep inside.

I know I'm not good looking and I know I've had my day,

But I've had a most romantic life...... well, in a sort of way.

145 Glitch! (9/28)

I have attempted to keep my Blogging up-to-date even when I have been 'voiceless'! The date in brackets after each title indicates the date on which the Blog should have been published.

The illustration says it all! Fingers Crossed!

GLITCH!

An open letter to my Blends;

(Those Bloggers who are on-line friends)

It all began some time ago.....

My computer grew sluggish and very slow.

It had been off-colour for several days,

Twitching and pausing and in a daze.

Every move seemed hours long.

It was very clear there was something wrong.

Cryptic messages gave a warning

That I would soon go into mourning!

No response to the mouse's click!

I longed to give my friend a kick!

So I was forced to go into purdah.

A Computerless life is absolute murder!

But a man called Shane (who charged a lot!)

Came and said I'd lost the plot!

My modum had simply bitten the dust!

(In Computerland what can one trust!)

Then he didn't come back for days and days!

It seemed we'd gone our separate ways!

Just when I was getting mad

He turned-up with a spare he had.

 He's twiddled and fixed and looked so clever

And he says I'll be on line for ever.

So my Blogs are post-dated (or should it be 'pre'?)

It all seems as easy as ABC.

(Though ABC WEDNESDAY passed me by;

Some of you even wondered why!)

 But at last I'm hoping for happier times.

Yours sincerely, 

Rinkly Rimes.

P.S For Blogging I am lusting

But at least it's meant I've done some dusting!

144 For Paul (9/27)

His life ran along parallel to mine and I shall miss him.

FOR PAUL 

Your blue eyes smiled disarmingly

Down from the silver screen;

The bluest and most charming eyes

 The world has ever seen.

You were sex-appeal personified,

Allied to a god-like grace.

This dumpy addict spent her time

Gazing at your face.

Yet all's not lost, you still inspire,

And we compensate ourselves

When we see you smiling down on us

From our supermarket shelves.

Fame, good-looks, great acting skill....

They were yours and they are gone,

But your efforts for the poor and weak

Will forever linger on.

143 Don't Bank on It! (9/26)

The present turmoil in our financial markets, worldwide, is hardly amusing, but I feel I must comment in a jocular fashion! What else is there to do?

DON'T BANK ON IT!

I'm a Wall Street Banker.

I've made some Big Mistakes

But the Government will help me out!

One call is all it takes!

I can still live in my mansion;

I can still eat caviar.

I can still buy diamonds for my wife

And drive a fancy car.

I pass the empty houses

And people sleeping rough,

I see their awful suffering,

But I just don't give a stuff!

They say that I'm responsible

For all the grief and pain,

But, if the Government sees me right,

I can do it all again!

142 On the Tip of his Tongue! (9/25)

Most jokes are slightly politically incorrect and this one is no exception.

 

ON THE TIP OF HIS TONGUE!

 

 

Bill and Joe and Marmaduke were cursed with dreadful stuttering.

And every word they tried to say ended with grunts and spluttering.

They visited a therapist who worked with might and main

To make their speech intelligible, crystal clear and plain.

Millicent was beautiful and full of sex-appeal,

With attributes not from a jar but absolutely real.

So, when she said she'd set a test, all three of them agreed

And all responded with a 'Y-y-y-y-yes indeed!''

She said 'I'm going to ask each one to, slowly, say the name

Of the city, town or village, from which his family came.

If you can say the name of it without a single pause,

You'll be a very, very, very lucky man because

The best one will stay after lessons all alone with me!

Just think about that, gentlemen! Which one will it be?

I'm offering an afternoon of wild and glorious passion;

I bet no other therapist gives prizes in that fashion!'

Quickly, Bill stood up and spoke quite loud and clear, on cue.

'I come from B-b-birmingham.' Said his teacher 'That wont do!'

So Joe said 'I'm from P-p-perth!' and Millicent replied

'No good! No good! I fear you've failed, although you really tried.'

Finally Marmaduke spoke up and he was the clearest one.

'I come from London' he announced, knowing that he had won.

So Marmaduke and Millicent made love without delay.

(He didn't waste his time on talk, for that was not his way).

Then Millicent looked up at him with her gorgeous, bright, blue eyes

And said 'Well, Marmaduke, it seems to me that you  enjoyed that prize!

And as a lover you're the best! You're quite extraordinary!'

And that's when Marmaduke got round to

'd-d-d-derry!'

141 Beggar's Bridge (9/24)

I read this legend on another  Blog, and I found it so interesting and sweet that I decided to write my own simplified version of the story. If the originator will contact me I'll acknowledge her. 

 

BEGGAR'S BRIDGE

 

Go back four hundred years.

To the Elizabethan age.

Think of the famous gentlemen

Strutting upon the stage.

Raleigh and Drake were two of them,

Doubtless great men of war,

Fighting their battles on the sea

As heroes had done before.

 

Then bring to mind a lesser man,

Not written large by fame,

A hero, too, in his own way;

Thomas Ferris was his name.

Ten miles up-river from Whitby,

Deep in the countryside.

Is a place that's known as Glaisdale

Where this young man wooed his bride.

 

The River Esk flowed strong and fast

Past meadow, lane and tree,

Till it reached the coast at Whitby

And flowed away to sea.

Thomas loved Agnes Richardson;

They kissed as they walked by the water,

Though he was a humble farmers lad

And she was a rich man's daughter.

 

They met in secret many times,

And their love grew ever stronger.

At last, though the outcome seemed quite plain,

Tom could hide his love no longer.

'Sir' he said to the rich man,

'Please give me your daughter's hand.

My love for her overwhelms me,

Though I've neither money nor land.'

 

Her Father said 'You've no money!

And she's of noble birth!

You come here as a beggar,

A man of little worth.

Leave my house this instant

My daughter will never be yours!

She can only marry  a rich man!

Nevermore darken my doors!'

 

Thomas made up his mind to be worthy

Of the girl that his heart so desired.

He enlisted in the navy

And with ardent ambition was fired.

'We'll meet by the river one last time'

He said to the love of his life.

'Then wait for me, Agnes, my sweet one.

I'll return to make you my wife.'

 

To meet Agnes, Tom came to the river,

But great rains filled the Esk to the brim.

He could not get over to meet her;

She could not get over to him.

He longed for one last time to hold her,

But all he could do was cry out

'I'll return as a rich man, my lovely!

Hold fast to our love! Never doubt!'

 

The suitors beat pathways to Agnes,

She spurned every man she espied.

Her father was full of resentment

But she yearned to be Thomas' bride.

Thomas battled the mighty Armada,

In Jamaica he soon turned to trade

And when he returned four years later,

It was clear that his fortune was made.

 

Thomas and Agnes were married,

And for twenty-six years they were wed,

Till Agnes took sick with a fever

And peacefully died in her bed.

Then Thomas remembered their parting

On that wild stormy night long before,

When the flood-waters kept him from Agnes,

Before he set off for the war.

 

'No other young lovers must suffer

As Agnes and I did back then.

I'll build a bridge over the river,

So that never will happen again.'

And today the quaint bridge is still standing

It's been that way right from the start.

The Beggar's Bridge built for all lovers,

Who cannot bear being apart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

140 Some Baby! (9/23)

There could be just a smidgin of exaggeration about this poem and the photo isn't of me! But old age certainly comes up with some nasty shocks! The original poem doesn't do much for Sex Education I'm afraid! 

SOME BABY!  

Where did you come from, Baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into the here.
Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through. George MacDonald

 

Where did you come from, Big Black Hair?

You don't belong and it isn't fair!

My brows have always been neat and pale,

But surely you heard me weep and wail

When I looked in the bathroom mirror this-morning

And there, sticking out, without any warning

Was this black hair all straight and strong

Among the others. It looked all wrong.

Were you hiding there, in my DNA,

Surreptitiously till today?

Were you my destiny, horrid spike,

A facial feature I do not like?

As a tiny baby, pink and placid,

With youthful eyebrows pale and flaccid,

Was there already, in my psyche,

This grotesque thing all black and spiky?

Was it growing year after year

In some crevasse, now to appear?

What else am I growing to scare and shock,

Spurred on by the ticking of life's clock?

You've waited seventy years to grow,

Why so evil? Why so slow?

I'll get the tweezers! I'll defeat you!

I'm determined that I'll beat you.

Get a grip! My! But you're tough!

One pull just doesn't seem enough.

Ouch! That's got you! Out you come!

No more trouble from you, old chum!

Wait a bit! Can this be true?

 

There wasn't just one Black Hair but two!