|Humor Poetry posted April 23, 2011|
A story of a meeting
The Walrae and the Carpenter
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,'
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):
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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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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