MensjeDeZeemeermin

He's always in by Eight A.M. and working on his Greek And all alone he sweats away week after busy week. The workload hasn't shrunk a bit, and he thinks he's a laggard. But if he's always slovenly, then why's he always haggard? A little turn upon the screw, there's always more that you could do. Success or failure turn on you, you're never ever nearly through. Day in and out you'll find him there with sore and burning eyes. He's getting much of it all wrong, no matter what he tries. And if he fails when failures count, all of it comes to nought, And absolutely nothing is what all that labor's bought. A little turn upon the screw, complaints are of no use to you, They waste your time to study, too, you're never ever nearly through. His back is sore from hunching as he puzzles out old print And spots swim past his vision, and it does no good to squint. His buttocks chafe from sitting in an unforgiving chair As he works on for hours when nobody else is there. A little turn upon

Earth hides treasures held deep within her heart That those who have the skill can sometimes find And, taking them, they practice skillful art By which their shape and luster are refined. Formed with precision cuts by diamond saws They take an intricate and cunning shape And grinding banishes their surface flaws. Now the passing glance cannot escape What God and craft have rendered passing fair. Their subtle colors soothe and, silent, please The hand or eye that lights upon them there. They can delight and give one’s vision ease. Their booth holds such refined and royal rocks To greet a lucky eye in opened box.

Outside in the front yard snow some things have landed hard. The porch light shines on glowing eyes, and fanged shapes in the yard. It’s dragons, quite a lot of them, but none among the perils. Unless my ears are playing tricks, they’re singing Christmas Carols! Go down and grab the stock pot and make some treats that crunch. We’ve got to give them something nice that doesn’t cost a bunch. They all look very serious, so I have got a hunch That we had best contrive to make a hogshead full of punch. Oh look! A Gold’s conducting, while three Silvers are all singing. Those Bronzes with the cotton gloves have got hand bells they’re ringing! The Coppers all sing madrigals assisted by the Brasses, Here come some hopeful Kobolds—INCOMING NOW! Hat passes! I think we have some ‘Fun Size’ Heath bars left from Halloween. Yes, use that trash can for the punch, just make sure that it’s clean! You have to brew a warming sup and make sure they will like it. Quick! Bring my XO brandy up!  We’re

With apologies to the Man in Black who wasn't Sauron Gorthaur! Gollum: Love... is a precious thing... And my love.... is a golden ring. This ring... is my desire But it's become... A RING OF FIRE! We fell in with a burning ring of fire! Towers fall as the flames rise higher... And it burns burns BURNS US! The Ring of Fire! The Ring of Fire... Three Orcs dressed as a mariachi band play a trumpet fanfare Frodo: My Uncle... He found this ring... I must destroy... the cursed thing! On Mt. Doom... We two climb higher... To dispose of... this Ring of Fire! I must end Sauron's wretched ring of fire Things right now are getting pretty dire And it burns and burns... The Ring of Fire... The Ring of Fire! Same three orcs. They won't go away until you tip them. Sam: My boss... He's got this ring... I'm lugging it... and him, and Sting. Lava makes... my toes perspire... While I haul up... This Ring of Fire. Time to toss the Dark Lord's darned Ring of Fire! This volcano will

There's a mare who sticks her nose in danger. She's found more at the range than at the manger. Her stall door always breaks... With every run she takes... Odds are she won't get her feed tomorrow... Secret... AGENT mare! Secret... AGENT mare! They've given you a freeze mark And nobody combs your mane... When they're taking horses off to slaughter... She wrecks their trucks and no one's ever caught her. She's always after them... She stalks the B-L-M... Odds are she won't get her feed tomorrow... Secret... AGENT mare! Secret.. AGENT mare! They've given you a freeze mark And nobody combs your mane... Other mares lick salt, but she licks knackers. She kicks the tar out of would-be bullwhackers. She's now a driven soul. She's not the sort to foal. Odd are she won't get her feed tomorrow. Secret... AGENT mare! Secret.. AGENT mare! They've given you a freeze mark And nobody combs your mane...

(As Sung, Screeched--Whatever--By The Male Consort of Raptor Red on The Morning After the 1,000 Year Flood) With apologies to Ashman & Mencken and A Repectful Head-Bob to Robert Bakker The early Cretaceous is not for the weak, We just had a terrible flood. The Paleoentologists will just freak-- At the dinos who drowned in the mud. And as for me, well, I clung to a tree, We raptors are known for our claws, I saw an acrocanthosaurus now flee, And I think that I suspect the cause-- No one's hard like gaston, Has backs barred like gaston, There's no dino you bite and discard like gaston! Since the damn things are covered in armor, And their sides have sharp spikes added on, You can corner a cow, but can't harm her, And she'll limber her tail and start laying it on! No one smacks like gaston, No one whacks like gaston, When you bite one it's your jaw that cracks, not gaston, All their muscles feed into that lashing, They throw

(To the tune of 'Purple People Eater' From a no-show at Polo) Mark, I saw this beast Canter over the pitch A small Maltese From a one-horse hitch. I confess to tremor as I sought to see It looks a Pinto Polo Pony to me! It was a Maltese cart-horse purchased Pinto Polo Pony! Maltese cart-horse purchased Pinto Polo Pony! Maltese cart-horse purchased Pinto Polo Pony! Striking sight to see! At but thirteen hands He posed slight risk of a fall And mark how he stands In the way of the ball He won't flinch if you crowd him No shouts make him jump! He awes all there with his skill at the bump! Hot to trot, polyglot, purchased Pinto Polo Pony! Greatly sought, can't be bought Maltese Pinto Polo Pony! Crowd's delight, will not bite Perspicacious Polo Pony... Mount of high degree! A plain little beast at a casual look But his skill's not the least When there's mallets to hook Onlookers are awed and exclaim, "He's so pukka!" Both teams oft applaud As he plays out his chukka! Kipling-esque