Humor Poetry posted April 23, 2011


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A story of a meeting

The Walrae and the Carpenter

by rhymelord

 

 

The Walrae and the Carpenter


The time had come, I'm sure you've heard,

For Walrae (that's the plural word)

To gather on the beach at dusk,

All sage with age and long of tusk -

A feature they all shared.


A Carpenter, who lived nearby,

Observed them with a jaundiced eye.

He'd heard their nonsense every year

But, though he thought it rather queer,

He never asked them why.


One Elder said, "We should debate

Just why we call dead people 'late'

When clearly, if they've 'gone before,'
It's us that's late, not them, I'm sure.

We have to set that straight.


And, then there is that other thing

Of why fat ladies have to sing

To close the show.  Now that's absurd."

He then said not another word -

He'd had his annual fling.


The Chairman said, "Let's first decide

To move up from the rising tide."

With that they hastened to agree,

For all were wet and cold, you see,

All other things aside.


Then, when they all were warm and dry,

The Chairman winked a watery eye

And, knocking ash from his cigar,

He opened up the corporate bar

And poured a shot of rye.


The other Walrae crowded round

And very soon there was the sound

That comes from relaxed delegates

(On holiday from female mates):

Dionysus unbound.


And then the great talk-fest began,

In language quite unknown to man,

Although it's thought some Innuit

Had once made some attempt at it,

Or such had been his plan.


At first they thought to renovate

Or, at the very least, restate

L. Carroll's now old-fashioned verse

With new thoughts on the Universe,

To bring him up to date.


I'm sure that Carroll would approve

And bless this most audacious move

To modify his classic rhymes,

To make them fit in Modern Times

And get them in the groove.


Instead of Cabbages and Kings,

We'll have French Fries and Onion Rings

And Oysters, eaten on the shore,

Will be Kilpatricked, 'stead of raw,

While Frank Sinatra sings.


 And Pigs, that once could never fly,

Will now be seen up in the sky,

At least when sparrows grow a tooth

And politicians tell the truth - 

(Or fail to tell a lie).


By this time all the booze was gone,

An awful shock to everyone.

So, they decided, and I quote,

"Let's put our findings to the vote

And note what we have done."


They couldn't find the voting box,

So used one of the Chairman's socks,

Which wasn't very sound, you know -

It had a great hole in the toe - 

He'd torn it on the rocks.


So all the votes just disappeared,

While delegates stood round and cheered

And passed a motion by acclaim,

"Let's come next year and do the same"

And no-one thought it weird.


The Carpenter, just passing by,

Was heard to heave a heartfelt sigh

And state quite unequivoc'lly,

While Walrae gambolled in the sea,

"It makes you want to cry."




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I know the Latin scholars will all be screaming that Walrae is not the plural of Walrus, but who cares. It is not even a Latin noun anyway and more than that, you try to get the line to scan with Walruses or whatever. So there.

Dionysus was the god of the grape harvest, winemaking and wine, of ritual madness and ecstasy in Greek mythology, ie also known as Bacchus to the Romans. All in all a real guys guy.
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