The Neighbour's Dog In the Morning, Afternoon, Evening, And Night. As a Matter of Fact, All the Time.
*Scrubblescrubblescrubblescrubblescrubble.*
Woof! Woof woof woof woof woof WOOF WOOF WOOF! Woof!
*Scrubblescrubblescrubblescrubblescrubble.*
*Scrubblescrubblescrubblescrubblescrubble.*
Woof! Woof woof woof woof woof WOOF WOOF WOOF! WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF
WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!
*Scrubblescrubblescrubblescrubblescrubble.*
*Scrubblescrubblescrubblescrubblescrubble.*
Woof! Woof woof woof woof woof WOOF WOOF WOOF! WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF
WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!
*Scrubblescrubblescrubblescrubblescrubble.*
*Scrubblescrubblescrubblescrubblescrubble.*
Woof! Woof woof woof woof woof WOOF WOOF WOOF! WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF
WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF BANG BANG!
It's the same thing, day after day ...
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9 comments:
Well, notice how there were two gun shots ...??
I thought you were just being thorough.
That does it. Now I'm going to quote poetry.
Then, face twisted in an hideous glare,
He comes at her in a run!
He seems - axe waving in the air -
A sight the very dead might fear;
But Maud returns a fiercer stare:
And shoots him with her gun!
He stops - and stumbles to the door -
Maud shoots him once! - and twice! -
He falters - falls down to the floor:
Maud steps amongst the blood and gore:
He's done for, dead: but to be sure
Maud SHOOTS THE BOUNDER THRICE!
When Maud was very young, you see,
Her papa took her on his knee,
And frowning, said to her:
"If e'er a madman come at ye
With axe, or sword, to murder thee,
Then take this gun - and ONE - TWO - THREE!
You SHOOT the rotten cur!
AND KILL THE SCOUNDREL, SIR!
Is it too late for me to be quiet now?
Um...why was Papa calling Maud[it looks naked without an e on the end] 'sir'? No, never mind...
Didn't your father ever call you sir?
Actually, this raises to mind some fun weekend activities for you and your Dad. Take him to the shooting gallery!
Interesting idea. Did you mean guns or drugs? We could bond over drugs but I'm not so sure if I want him anywhere near guns.
Of the many weird things he calls me 'sir' is not one.
Guns, definitely, though it's up to you. Remember seeing a play once where a whole family bonded by taking pot shots out of the window in their inner-city New York apartment.
Now I'm curious. What is the weirdest name he's called you?
Before I completely forget, I should say, in the context of the poem: I imagine Maud's father was using the language of the time. He probably also saw Maud as the son he didn't have. (Y'know, being constrained by the patriarchal constructs of the time, or something like that? Nah, I don't understand it, either) And Maud doesn't have an 'e' on the end because I didn't imagine her name to have an 'e' on the end. Yeah, it was my poem.
Yes, the poem did rather have Tim-wrote-me written all over it.
I'm so not telling you the nicknames my father calls me by! Or any of the rest of my family. Awful, so awful!
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