A Nod To The Bard
Farmer Jack went off on his tractor
But instead of his buddy
With smiling face ruddy
He found a Shakespearean actor.
”Oh la! Who art thou?” quoth the peasant.
”I’m a farmer”, snapped he, most unpleasant.
We are not the bright lights
But a place where we hunt duck and pheasant”.
The actor said, ”Just call me Lee.
Please spare me thy wrath
For I’m someone who hath
Quaffed a few drinks and barely can see.
Thy friend, when he saw me took fright
And took off running into the night.
And was squiffy and pale
‘Twas a pitiful, pitiful sight.
The liquor you see was all free
The knave was too weak
To remain here and speak
So he bid me, instead, meet with thee.”
”Oh, get up, fool”, the farmer did say
Forsooth, fol-de-rol, lack-a-day
Prithee please do not howl
We will go shoot some fowl
Thee and me we will have a nice day.”
Armed with guns and some bullets of brass
They wandered off into the grass
But the actor was tired
Oh, I’d love to, but let’s just say, ‘pass’.
Though well soused and all over the place
They came forth from the reeds with a brace,
Lee, a ruddy great cow
Farmer Jack an old sow,
Of the pheasant and ducks not a trace.
They roasted the game on a fire
Then sang Hey-Nonny-No to a lyre
By the dancing fire-lights
And to Stratford’s great bard did aspire.
‘Fare thee well” and some tears he did squeeze.
”May you prosper and never get fleas”
He talked just like a toff
‘Til his wig did fall off
And his tights dribbled down round his knees.
The actor then squealed, ”Oh, no way
Thou might suffer and sob,
But do keep the day job
And leave ME to do Shakespeare, I pray”.
With a sigh and a wave of his hand
Farmer Jack took off back to the land
But he still wore the tights
When real cold were the nights
And a skinful had left him quite canned.
Up some Shakespeare he fell of a ledge.
He was rescued of course
By a knackered old horse
And thereafter our Jack took The Pledge.
The moral is painfully clear.
Stay away from all spirits and beer.
Don’t go hunting in tights
And forego the delights
Hitherto, heretofore of Shakespeare.
The Status Quo
In her palace a duchess was sitting
Then she thought with a sigh
”One as high born as I
Should engage in a pastime more fitting.
His Lordship does floozies engage
A disgrace to his status and age
I’ve been very forgiving
Despite his high living
But now I must a protest stage”.
So she waited ’til just after dark
When the dogs would be still and not bark
Then, with bod aptly clad
Dressed in feathers and plaid
Joining six scantly clad moonlight vamps
And a salesman and two friendly tramps
Plus a Scotsman named Roy
(Such a good-looking boy)
Then a vicar out there to swap stamps.
At a flagpole they all gathered round
Up the mast was her ladyship bound
She attempted to get off the ground.
Roy said, ”Just a wee minute, hen.
Have a swig o’ ma whisky and then
When ye’ve had a good sup
We’ll all help you climb up
And we’ll wait ’til you come down again”.
Madame drank ’til her eyes did both cross
Then she hollered, ”Though I am the boss
A hand I’ll still need
Of the ground to be freed
All the crowd did take part to assist
Since from booze she’d a definite list
Now she yelled, ”Now no snickers
When you see my knickers!”
Then climbed up and was lost in the mist.
As Roy picked up his pipes and his bag
His knees ‘neath his kilt did fair sag
While the crowd passed a bong
Before proudly saluting the flag.
She perched there for two years and a day
Doing crosswords and munching on hay
Every once in a while
She would chortle and smile
With the fairies poor dear was away.
When she finally did come on down
All her friends had moved on, back to town,
With night as their cover
This time they were joined by a clown.
As she looked at a Scot (different name)
Plus a bunch of girls out on the game
To those folks of the night
Duchess cried, ”It’s so right!
The more things change, the more they’re the same.”