No Escape!

IMAGINARY GARDEN
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/
The theme is Halloween; I chose Witches

NO ESCAPE!

How terrible to be a witch
In the days of the ducking stool!
Say something out-of-line
And a swift death was the rule.
When one was strapped in the ducking-stool
It was only a matter of time
Before one died a dreadful  death,
Whatever was the crime.

The stool was held out over water
And the witch was dunked right in.
If she died that was certain proof
That she'd committed a sin.
But, if she lived, it was equal proof
That witchcraft had saved the day,
So the 'witch' was taken and burnt at the stake
In a truly horrible way!
'The good old days' ? I think not.
Nowadays were much more free
And you can cast your witchy spells
With equanimity.

*

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                                          Newcastle; NSW

BULGING WITH BLUES

Sailing into my home port after a week on the ocean,

I felt an unexpected joy that was sentimental emotion.

Newcastle isn't fashionable, it's full of industry,

And it's really quite peculiar that it means so much to me.

Growing-up in English prettiness, then living in London Town,

With a stint in glorious Cape Town, truly South Africa's crown,

A middle-sized city Down Under, designed for hard work and trade,

Surely can't compete with Sydney, which wins every accolade!

But sailing into the harbour, I rejoiced in the pleasant views,

And, most of all, in the blues and blues and blues and blues and blues.

*

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PS

Nearly all my pee-esses seem to involve food! Yesterday a group of us met to celebrate The Fifth Monday. I have instigated this, being President of the Probus. We normally do things on Mondays, but a few times a year there's a left-over Monday, a fifth one in the month, so I thought we could meet for lunch that day. We went to The Burwood Inn on this occasion and we enjoyed the fod and the company.

Success Story

SUCCESS STORY

Uncle George was overweight. The Doctor said 'You must run

Five miles a day for a hundred days and, when all that is done,

You'll be down to your perfect weight, without the slightest doubt.'

So Uncle put on his running shoes to try the theory out.

After thirty days he rang the Doctor to say he now was slim

And the Doctor told him he was proud, very proud of him.

'I must measure you now' the Doctor said,'Call round and see me today.'

'That's a problem' Uncle George replied, 'I'm five hundred miles away!'

*

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AS IT SAYS ABOVE!

Home is where the heart is,

Likewise the liver and the  spleen.

You'll find the duodenum there,

If you know what I mean.

That's where you'll find the clippings

When you've pedicured your feet,

Unless you're a top-notch housewife,

Whose home is always neat.

Home is where the bills are,

And the dust under the bed.

Also the stain that Billy left

When his nose just bled and bled.

Home is where the laundry basket

Stands chock full of clothes

Crying out for treatment;

Some of it on the nose!

Yes, home is where the heart is

The bald patch, the hammer toe!

Isn't it a pity 

That they've nowhere else to go!

*

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PS

My friend, Vera, invited me to lunch yesterday, along with Ros, Jean, Dorothy and Mavis. Vera is a superb cook so our meal was very tasty and conversation flowed. The only thing I hated was the journey home. I struck rush-hour on the main road, and I haven't done that for ages. I was really scared as rushing drivers cut-in and changed lanes at high speed. I felt lucky to get home in one piece and I wonder if my driving days are numbered. However, I'll remember the day for the company.

Vera's home is very elegant.

She has just redecorated all the bedrooms in very restful colours.

And Angus has just built her a very spacious walk-in wardrobe.

Alfie, the dog, did his best to get into the photograph.