Unofficial Christ's Hospital Forum

Ruthie-Baby wrote:To DaveByTheSea and H Titus
What you write seems to really delight us
To pick up a pen
Was never my yen
But I dream to compete with such writers

I am glad to have been of some use
That my rhyming seems not too obtuse
That my gentle patter
Is the heart of the matter
And it is not language abuse

(anyone spot the Grahame Greene reference?)

darthmaul wrote:I feel suddenly refined,
My speech sounds clear and defined
In comparison to
The saf landan gramoo
That makes our fair land much maligned.

My dear boy just what is "gramoo"?
And exactly just what does it do?
Sounds like an old cow that
Delivered a cowpat
The bovine equivalent of poo.

DavebytheSea wrote:

huntertitus wrote:Babe ruth's in a rage
Cause I rattled her cage
You can find her but not on my knee!

Fi! shame on you Hunterti-T!
For making our Ruthie angree
Why, I find, as I age,
I love to engage
With a mermaid perched thus on my knee.

Now look here young Dave-by-the-sea
Girls are not allowed on MY knee
For fear that my wife
With sharp carving knife
Remove the old organ of "G"

You see I'm of that "G"eneration
Who wouldn't just loiter at a station
Who behaves like a priest
In the daytime at least
In the evening it's just mastication

The last word contained not a "B"
Because I'm a good boy you see
I hope I can say
That it's the same way
For poetical Dave-by-the-sea

Ruthie-Baby wrote:Of poetry mentioning me
Before now I never have seen
So I feel very humble
My thanks I must mumble
Just remember to keep it all clean

Brat's a bit harsh, I feel though...

I'm sorry I used the word "brat"
Was late feeding kids and the cat
I didn't have time
To make a good rhyme
And that is the truth, it is that

Ruthie-Baby wrote:Just remember to keep it all clean

Why would I not keep it all clean?
My lines could be read by the queen
But Dave may be worse
In matters perverse
And things that appear quite obscene

I wander will there come a time,
when all speeches are given in rhyme?
Yet there would be no race
to live in a place
where writing in prose is a crime.

A rather large, paunchy Old Blue
Was wondering what he could do
So he hid in the bog
To dress as a CHOG
But just stuck as a Ruck in the loo.

DavebytheSea wrote:A rather large, paunchy Old Blue
Was wondering what he could do
So he hid in the bog
To dress as a CHOG
But just stuck as a Ruck in the loo.

Please could you kindly explain
What you mean in your nimble refrain
Does a chog mean cross dressing
If so it's depressing
CH-OLD Girls shouldn't be down the drain

And why include dear Richard Ruck
On the bog after much liquid tuck
RR had bad luck
In the loo he did chuck
All the alcohol who gives a

To be continued...

This one is slightly off-topic
If needs be then I will stop it.
It's only my first
But I've such a thirst,
To write a verse for this topic.

One normal day in housey,
A teacher needed a pee.
When he left the room,
There was such a zoom,
The pupils, they all made for tea.

This teacher of which I speak
Is not, put quite lightly, that meek.
His lessons too long,
He bursts into song,
He does not let his pupils speak.

And so when the students they can
Get out, they generally ran.
Tonight had no preps,
Except for the deps,
Much use was seen by the pans.

Fear not, this teacher is fake,
I hope this is no mistake.
I'll be quiet now.
Or I'll cause a row.
And be thrown in Doctor's lake.

Oh gosh!
It's Josh!

Too young I fear
For writing here.
But never mind,
His verse I find
So pleasing to
An ancient Blue.
Revered JT,
Please leniently
Allow his rhyme
At least this time
To rest awhile ....
Because his style
Should here be seen
By those who may be wondering
If Emperor has lost his throne
Or into something else has grown.

Who is this teacher, anyway?

huntertitus wrote:

DavebytheSea wrote:A rather large, paunchy Old Blue
Was wondering what he could do
So he hid in the bog
To dress as a CHOG
But just stuck as a Ruck in the loo.

Please could you kindly explain
What you mean in your nimble refrain
Does a chog mean cross dressing
If so it's depressing
CH-OLD Girls shouldn't be down the drain

And why include dear Richard Ruck
On the bog after much liquid tuck
RR had bad luck
In the loo he did chuck
All the alcohol who gives a

To be continued...

While wandering round in the City
I thought it would be such a pity
Not to mark here in verse
His comment perverse

That's why I inscribed the above ditty.

[see RR's observation below]

Richard Ruck wrote:Have I ever tried to pass myself off as a CHOG???

I don't think I'd be very convincing......

This has been asked by David by the sea to be included here - i will probably increase and add to it. It comes from a thread that started out as something funny, and ended up as bullying being discussed.. It's my first attempt in here.


All they have known
and all they have seen
is the violence that makes up
a terrible dream

Black and then blue
the bruises they hue
all covered in scabs as they
walk for the day

so sad they do feel
and pain is so real
that they may as well
be on the dark side of the moon
where it's cold
and they can grow old
without being told
you're just a bufoon

and the bullies they loom
in the terrible doom
that you feel that is you as you try to run
but all you can do
and all that you say
is please do not hurt me,
not yet again today

but onward they come
to the beat of a drum
until finally all you hear
is the thud of your heart in your ear.

huntertitus wrote:

Ruthie-Baby wrote:Just remember to keep it all clean

Why would I not keep it all clean?
My lines could be read by the queen
But Dave may be worse
In matters perverse
And things that appear quite obscene

You know that I'd never do that
And never (on) my knee has she sat
My family demands
My legs and my arms
So there's no hope of fun with young brat

Though desire may require some degree
Any lust is just pure fantasee.
If you, Hunter-Tickers,
Don't mention her knickers
I won't take dear Ruth on my knee.

The insomniac

The night passes on while I toss and I turn
In my bed (that belongs to my cat!)
As I turn and I squirm
And I try to get comfy
I know it is one of those nights

My pillows too soft, and now it’s too hard
And the duvet has sprung a new leak
And the buttons that keep it inside it sweet case
Are now on the floor so to speak

The mattress is lumpy, too soft and too worn
And my pure cotton sheet is all torn
So my feet pass right through it and out to the end
And freeze or get eaten again

Those nights which turn day, Where your mind goes astray
And things pop up and whizz all around
Where you try oh so hard to get Things to calm down
To get you and your brain on the ground

The cat gets pissed off and disappears off
With her tail ramrod straight in the air
For her it is easy to turn round and round
And curl up fast asleep on a chair

She can sleep through my tossing, my turning, my snoring
But if I get up to have me a tea
Then she’s down the stairs at the speed of light
To see if there’s something to eat
And give her something less boring for tea

So here I am with morning begun
At the pc writing this down
I might as well recall I was here today
As I don’t think I’ll remember at all

‘cos I know when I finally sleep in my bed
this poem will not survive in my head
and the four or so hours or more I might get
will be lost as the clock alarm calls.

Err the time is wrong
when I wrote my song
the clock said a quarter to three
but when i had written
and pasted and read it
the time was an hour too short

So when you all read this and laugh at my words
remember this one little thing
I was sitting here writing
when you were all sleeping
and the clock has now gone well past three....