[Stevie]I have never claimed to be the author of the Highland one. If I remember correctly it was sent to me years ago from a friend with his roots in Dundee, Scotland. Nevertheless it gave you the opportunity to show off as the smartass I think you are. The only reason that I wanted to remind Pen of her contribution The barmaid was that some might think it is also misogynistic in one way or another. However here is another old one for your critique:
My wife is a Lady, I think, Cause her knickers are narrow, and pink On the rim there is lace, On the bottoms a trace, Of the finest of beaver and mink.
[Mark] If you read again with your eyes open you'll see that at no point did I attribute "the highland one" to you. I just said, rightly, that it had been turned into near gibberish by eschewing the needs of the language it was written in in order to make its "joke". This is one of the criteria laid out for bad poetry in The Stuffed Owl; an anthology of bad verse. In point of fact I didn't think the idea was strong enough to warrant the energy needed to write it, but I never blamed you for it. I did out penelope as not the author of "tattooed barmaid", with the same comment I made the last time it surfaced in the wild.
"I've checked, and you've no magic wand So I don't think that you will abscond Since you're fastened down tight Under my laser light I expect you to die, Mr Bond!"
"How on earth did you ever get free? Never mind, makes no difference to me. Fort Knox is your tomb You're about to go "boom" Mr Bond as you clearly can see"
"Damn and blast, you escaped once again! This is getting too much. What a pain. Please throw Mr Bond In that bottomless pond Wrapped in twenty five feet of steel chain!"
"No more "watch" Mr Bond, no more "keys" I'll take both your "shoes" if you please And your "belt". And your "Hat". And your oiled "cricket bat" Time to die. We are done with strip tease."
"And now into the chamber you go Where two quarts of nitro will blow As the cyanide gas, Whirling blades and ground glass Make an end to you Bond, don't you know?"
"Hahaha! There Bond lies burned and torn No escapes. No more jokes old and worn. Wait? What's this I see On his singed laund-ery? It's a tag. And it reads 'Jason Bourne'!"
"I'm off 'fore this "Bourne" chap comes round For he's not dead, just stunned I'll be bound And when he finds out Who did this, I've no doubt My Germanic bonce he will pound."
Take "The", [proper name] and a filler For the title of your Ludlum thriller. Then on to the plot Which is mostly rot With a secret, three spies, and a killer.
The chuck key was here, in the drill But the chuck's gone AWOL from the quill! Events now play Hob With my "ten minute job" Wasting time, adding cost, sapping will
Jingle bells, jingle bells all the way Oh what fun! That's what people will say Wearing red Christmas slacks With my shotgun and axe In my festive one-horse Christmas slay