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"ferrets" poems
They’re really rockin’ in Bradford, Off the Pennine Way. Deep in the heart of Yorkshire And round the Robin Hood’s Bay. All over South Ossett And down to New Farnley. Roast beef and Yorkie Puddings, God’s Own County, Yay! Yull see ‘em rambling at Ilkley, Right to the county line, Sheffield steel and Wednesday – A football team so fine. Better still, Leeds United, Greatest club of all time. Yorkshire, Kings of Cricket, Oh what a boon! Get down that wicket, We’ll be champs by June. Down a ginnel or snicket, See our Olympic Champs. Coal Miner Picket, Relight those lamps. Racing pigeons and ferrets, Stereotypes tha knows. Over t’top in Lancashire, Them there’s our foes. We’re the greatest county, Our pride really glows. We know you all hate us, It keeps us on our toes. So we’ll be rockin’ in Yorkshire, What more can I say? Us Tykes 're as barmy as Barnsley, So I’ll be on my way. Paul Butters (With due thanks to Chuck Berry and also The Beach Boys)
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May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
Yorkshire Rockin'
an aging APE developed arthritis in his ankles several BATS tasted the nectar from the plum trees Jessica's CAT played with the ball of wool DINGOS were seen skulking around the camp site there are two types of ELEPHANTS the Asian and African FERRETS are sent down rabbit warrens to flush them out Helen saw a GIRAFFE at the wildlife reserve I wrote a poem titled Hilary The HIPPOPOTAMUS Who has a pet IGUANA? Some people say my uncle is a ******* KANGAROOS  have muscular tails Obama rhymes with LLAMA in parts of Canada MOOSE roam on the loose a NEWT likes being in a warm environment some OCTOPI have black dye baby PANDAS are cute and cuddly in Australia we have a native bush QUAIL RACCOONS live in rocky dens a TAPIR has a very long nose UAKARI monkeys hang out in the Amazon jungle if you're looking for a VOLE you'll find him in a hole WOMBATS move in a very slow manner an XERUS is a mighty big species of squirrel the Nepalese have domesticated YAKS Doctor Dolittle has spoken to a ZEBRA
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Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
ABC Poem (Animals)
There is a wildness still in England that will not feed In cages; it shrinks away from the touch of the trainer's hand, Easy to **** not easy to tame. It will never breed In a zoo for the public pleasure. It will not be planned. Do not blame us too much if we that are hedgerow folk Cannot swell the rejoicings at this new world you make - We, hedge-hogged as Johnson or Borrow, strange to the yoke As Landor, surly as Cobbett (that badger), birdlike as Blake. A new scent troubles the air -- to you, friendly perhaps But we with animal wisdom have understood that smell. To all our kind its message is Guns, Ferrets, and Traps, And a Ministry gassing the little holes in which we dwell.
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4.8k
The Condemned
Ou memories of good times last Our memories of bad times die We live in our heads We skate on ice It cracks and we are Thrown into icy waters The ferrets come to save us We jump on the night bus Time passes slowly At first Nothing is static Except the law That everything will change We cannot swim in the air But we can fly
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Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
The path to life everlasting
They’re really rockin’ in Bradford, Off the Pennine Way. Deep in the heart of Yorkshire And all round Robin Hood’s Bay. All over South Ossett Down there to New Farnley. Roast beef and Yorkie Puddings, God’s County Yay! Yull see ‘em rambling near Ilkley, Right to the county line, Sheffield steel and Wednesday – A football team so fine. Better still, Leeds United, Greatest club of all time. Yorkshire, Kings of Cricket, Oh what a boon! Get down that wicket, We’ll be champs by June. Down a ginnel or snicket, See our Olympic Champs. Coal Miner Picket, Relight those lamps. Racing pigeons and ferrets, Stereotypes tha knows. Over t’top in Lancashire, Them there’s our foes. We’re the greatest county, Our pride really glows. We know you all do hate us, It keeps us on our toes. So we’ll be rockin’ in Yorkshire, What more can I say? Us Tykes're as barmy as Barnsley, So I’ll be on my way. Paul Butters (With due thanks to Chuck Berry and also The Beach Boys) © PB 2\5\2016. Slightly Amended 14\4\2023.
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Apr 14, 2023
Apr 14, 2023 at 3:09 PM UTC
Yorkshire Rockin'
The way the dragonfly 
across your chest stares at me, 
through a lawn of pinwheel hairs; 
and the way your beard 
tickles me in such a way 
that I believe at any minute 
you are going to accumulate 
flannel and chop me a tree 
subtly confuses how I feel 
now that we have played 
a skilled game of ring toss.
 I am used to our conversations
 while you drag quill and ink 
across my skin and leave scars 
in all the right places.
 But the way you look at me 
a masterpiece to be devoured,
 and poisonous makes me 
ask if you can scratch my back 
for hours, but ******* get raw
 being rubbed like sweatshirts 
against bare skin all day. 
I don’t know how I feel about 
palindromes now, 
but I know how you feel 
when you make it snow inside 
and hand-rolled cigarette 
smoke fills the room 
chasing ferrets through sheets 
leaving bruises in the shape of dental x-rays. 
How does it feel, 
Once all of your tattoos have met?
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Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:05 PM UTC
Needles
She was only 15, no boyfriends yet At a family gathering their eyes first met Now Rob's not shy, with plenty of chat So he gave her a call and they never looked back. She went to Cambridge to get her degree So every weekend, so did he. When that was all done, what's next to do? No more travelling, just me and you In a cottage in Framsden made for two With ferrets and fish and a couple of dogs Oka cooks happy meat while Rob chops logs A veggie garden appeared for a spell A few came up, but the weeds did well. Some chickens arrived and did their thing Then so did the fox to commit his sin. Now Rob loves his hobbies, it gets on her wick When he's in his shed fiddling with his welding stick. But life is quite settled, time passes like this Living their version of unmarried bliss. But something is missing, the feeling grows She thinks to herself, will he ever propose? Then leap year comes round, with it's extra day That was her chance to have her say Rob knew it was coming, he took the day off. She said I want to be married, now don't you scoff! But Rob wasn't scoffing, he said now I'm sure I do love my Landie, but I love you more. That brings us right up to this special day We all wish you well, we all want to say May your lives together be happy, healthy and long May your love for each other keep growing strong.
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Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC
She was only 15
there was little ferret and he just long to go all the way to Austria to play in all the snow he took his little sleigh to the mountain side then from the very top down it he could slide sliding through through the snow on his little sleigh in this foreign land so very far way going very fast down the mountain track wrapped nice and warm lying on his back having lots of fun on his holiday he just loved the snow and playing on his sleigh
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Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
ferrets holiday
The Jack Attack was back Even the girl seemed quite fat Or was it a man or boy That was the old woman's toy - toil For it just so happened she was royalty But her castle was teaming With gigantic Ants - aunts Though they might have uncles, or cockroaches Because her extended family was quite big Cousins and kids Ran through the house like baby goats Ferrets and rats and marmalade stoats Drumming and strumming... and this poem... what a joke
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Sep 4, 2010
Sep 4, 2010 at 5:38 PM UTC
Freedom Verse
In the middle of the Night, The darkness is Here Even in my room, My ferrets are sleeping and I probably should too. Down, we go Down underneath the roots, Love comes from Everything, On with this Feeling, This feeling of love, Here we lay forever Eternity; here in the Night I lay awake, ready to sleep, so Goodnight, as I lay Here waiting for Tomorrow to come so I can see you.
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Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 7:24 PM UTC
In The Middle Of The Night
A Dreamer’s Dream only Dreamers can dream, a dream such as mine. dreaming silly dreams, like the stars that shine. pictures and letters, thoughts through the night, Won’t you come over, and see me tonight? A dreamer’s Dream can only be a vision of uncertain reality You can do what you want, you are finally free pictures and letters, thoughts through the night, Won’t you come over, and see me tonight? I can’t take my eyes off you standing there in the light of the moon your dress is so perfectly blue hold onto my hand and step into the room pictures and letters, thoughts through the night, Won’t you come over, and see me tonight? Ferrets talking to snails little white rabbits fluffing their tails She only speaks in rhythm and rhyme But i don‘t care because i know she is mine pictures and letters, thoughts through the night, Won’t you come over, and see me tonight?
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Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 6:04 PM UTC
A Dreamer's Dream
A church door's just another war to wage Prolong the propaganda volunteer go to Rwanda and see the truth that's written on the trees see hard bitten soldiers cry catch a famine in somewhere like Biafra and watch as children die. It's a lie to believe and declarations make me seethe Your time is much too valuable to give it up in prayer see it for yourself if god was ever good he isn't anymore In fact he isn't there I think he swanned off to the Caribbean with a companion who we'll call Peter for convenience and I'm not thinking of suggesting anything that's If there's anything or nothing to think about. My prophets catch ferrets wear flat caps set rat traps, There's not much to pick and choose of them but they're real men and not paintings in chapels or pictures in galleries I don't begrudge Luther his truth, you see you have to see the other point of view but it doesn't follow that you'll change yours.
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Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
Martin Luther and the truth of declarations
There once was a man who liked to eat grunion he ate them with ketchup and onion he ate them for lunch he ate a whole bunch he ate so many they gave him a bunion There was a lady who liked to eat cheese but when she ate it she started to sneeze she'd sneeze and she'd cough till her hat would fall off and she developed a terrible wheeze There was a young girl who ate cantaloupe while she rode on the back of an antelope she rode along fine and continued to dine till her antelope tripping, slid down a slope There was a boy who liked mango when he ate it he did the fandango he'd throw out the peels then with a click of his heels he would dance a beautiful tango There was a lady who loved carrots but so did her large group of ferrets if her ferrets were there she had to give them a scare to keep them away from her carrots There once was a man who liked to eat soup but when he did it made his ears droop it was hard to recoup with ears covered with goop but he just couldn't give up his soup There was a young lad who liked waffles Though they made him feel really awful he ate them with butter then he would sputter and develop a terrible cough-ful There was a man who loved to eat stew but when he ate it his face would turn blue it was truly a ghastly hue he looked like he had the flu as if he was sick through and through There once was a lady who liked custard she ate it with pickles and mustard a strange combo, she'll grant since she's not even pregnant when she was asked she'd always get flustered
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Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
Gustatory Limericks (for a Children's Book)
There once was a man who liked to eat grunion he ate them with ketchup and onion he ate them for lunch he ate a whole bunch he ate so many they gave him a bunion There was a lady who liked to eat cheese but when she ate it she started to sneeze she'd sneeze and she'd cough till her hat would fall off and she developed a terrible wheeze There was a young girl who ate cantaloupe while she rode on the back of an antelope she rode along fine and continued to dine till her antelope tripping, slid down a slope There was a boy who liked mango when he ate it he did the fandango he'd throw out the peels then with a click of his heels he would dance a beautiful tango There was a lady who loved carrots but so did her large group of ferrets if her ferrets were there she had to give them a scare to keep them away from her carrots There once was a man who liked to eat soup but when he did it made his ears droop it was hard to recoup with ears covered with goop but he just couldn't give up his soup There was a young lad who liked waffles Though they made him feel really awful he ate them with butter then he would sputter and develop a terrible cough-ful There was a man who loved to eat stew but when he ate it his face would turn blue it was truly a ghastly hue he looked like he had the flu as if he was sick through and through There once was a lady who liked custard she ate it with pickles and mustard a strange combo, she'll grant since she's not even pregnant when she was asked she'd always get flustered
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Our garden was spirals of green - Squeeze-through bean tunnels rigged with bee stings, skinny mud paths that grazed knees and bloodied hand-heels when it rained. The field was neat rows of gold - Wide tracks made-good with stone, sipped dry by birch and tall oak. Peacocks and emperors flickered, fritillary swooned to a stop on damp skin - Ragged commas were caught breaths in bramble and …I listened... to Old-Man-Brown - snoring and mythical, to the click-click of chopped veg, to kids playing, to men coming home. I ran, scrambled the bank, grabbed hold of chain-link, crashed into the garden. I knelt by the pen, let dogs lick my hands, gave armfuls of long grass to rabbits. I danced between chickens, beeped back at quails and avoided wry-smiley ferrets. I made it back before Mum needed to yell, shouted out, swirled my limbs clean from the barrel - Excited because, in a couple of weeks it’d be teeming with coppery fish and I’d give them ant-eggs and worms. I shoved open the door, brushed past dead things. That’s what we did - fed them until it was time.
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Oct 10, 2022
Oct 10, 2022 at 4:25 PM UTC
Butterflies (rewrite)
In taller walls search for new life to base things on but they all know no ones found it can't claim I'm wrong, though plucked from life, revisions go on to frail contentment, who do you talk to, who do you think you see? Suffocating my God without wondering left in m, it's sage to enter, but are you the speaking double, vision or clone, maybe just my ghost is all you see. Do they know? Do you count your blessings alone? Engrave you're worries. The needing to leave to a place you won't arrive. I'm seeing the highway again, roads blackened and torn but well worn from my friends keep my focus beside the, was it all to make my trip back here again? Do they know? Do you count you're blessings alone? Formed in a decaying cadence and hope, you took these blessings granted and merged them into a rope. Hebrew swing and silent discretion,a sea ferrets not you never learned to tie.
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Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
blessings to a rope
ALVARADO             Well, now we’ve a translator, we can hear             How much the Mayas hate us. SANDOVAL                                          We should leave.             As yet, we merely beg to buy their corn,                     But fears impel them to combat with us.             We’ve sixty wounded, heat stroke swoons the horse,             And not a flake of gold for all these streams.             Their ruins lurk like wrecks dredged from a swamp. ALVARADO             A stark reminder for aspiring minds             That cultures often fall as well as rise.             Here comes the father, with our medicine man.                                        Enter AGUILAR and OLMEDO. AGUILAR             And so back home the Inquisition, brother,             Still rules the roost?      OLMEDO                              It does so.              AGUILAR                                                 Grim regime!             It clouds the air upon a thousand wings,             Whose shadows spread to pall the gloomy sun.             The cool, luxuriant trees on which it lights,             It dries. How it decays! It browns green grass,             And desolates the leafy countrysides             Until they wither as the Syrian wastes. OLMEDO        So it does. SANDOVAL          [aside] Hark! The moral landslide rumbles. OLMEDO             Those fires of the Inquisition, lighted             Exclusively to doom the Jews, one day             Are destined to consume their smug oppressors. SANDOVAL [aside to Alvarado]             He strains a bit to shield the circumcised.             Though I’ve a ***** mouth, my blood is pure. ALVARADO [aside to Sandoval]             Hush, Sandoval. You go too far. OLMEDO                                                 And you?             Know, Alvarado, there are many men             Who, through misguided zeal- yes, Sandoval-             Convince themselves that they commit no sin             So long as those they **** and violate             Are of a different faith. ALVARADO                               It’s not our fault.             I hate the Grand Inquisitor myself. SANDOVAL             Like any little-loved policing force,             However, it preserves our way of life. OLMEDO             For its unwanted eye that never slumbers,             Its arm, unseen and ever raised to strike,             Does not o’ercast its gloom on you, but rather             On deviants, foreigners, and heretics. AGUILAR             It bars all doors of human entry to them-             Marginalized, shorn lambs it ferrets out,             And scapegoats as the enemies of Rome.             Thus, it condemns not only deeds, but thoughts.
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Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
The Floral War 2:6:1-41
ALVARADO             Well, now we’ve a translator, we can hear             How much the Mayas hate us. SANDOVAL                                          We should leave.             As yet, we merely beg to buy their corn,                     But fears impel them to combat with us.             We’ve sixty wounded, heat stroke swoons the horse,             And not a flake of gold for all these streams.             Their ruins lurk like wrecks dredged from a swamp. ALVARADO             A stark reminder for aspiring minds             That cultures often fall as well as rise.             Here comes the father, with our medicine man.                                        Enter AGUILAR and OLMEDO. AGUILAR             And so back home the Inquisition, brother,             Still rules the roost?      OLMEDO                              It does so.              AGUILAR                                                 Grim regime!             It clouds the air upon a thousand wings,             Whose shadows spread to pall the gloomy sun.             The cool, luxuriant trees on which it lights,             It dries. How it decays! It browns green grass,             And desolates the leafy countrysides             Until they wither as the Syrian wastes. OLMEDO        So it does. SANDOVAL          [aside] Hark! The moral landslide rumbles. OLMEDO             Those fires of the Inquisition, lighted             Exclusively to doom the Jews, one day             Are destined to consume their smug oppressors. SANDOVAL [aside to Alvarado]             He strains a bit to shield the circumcised.             Though I’ve a ***** mouth, my blood is pure. ALVARADO [aside to Sandoval]             Hush, Sandoval. You go too far. OLMEDO                                                 And you?             Know, Alvarado, there are many men             Who, through misguided zeal- yes, Sandoval-             Convince themselves that they commit no sin             So long as those they **** and violate             Are of a different faith. ALVARADO                               It’s not our fault.             I hate the Grand Inquisitor myself. SANDOVAL             Like any little-loved policing force,             However, it preserves our way of life. OLMEDO             For its unwanted eye that never slumbers,             Its arm, unseen and ever raised to strike,             Does not o’ercast its gloom on you, but rather             On deviants, foreigners, and heretics. AGUILAR             It bars all doors of human entry to them-             Marginalized, shorn lambs it ferrets out,             And scapegoats as the enemies of Rome.             Thus, it condemns not only deeds, but thoughts.
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Ferrets in the laundry room, Parrot in the shed, Hamster in the lounge, Puppies on my bed. Snake in the bread bin, Kittens on the stairs, Glow worms in the cupboard To catch you unawares. Emu in the garden, Koala in the study, Piggies in the front yard, Where it's nice and muddy. A bathroom budgie, Dogs guard bedroom three, When I win the premium bonds, Who will rescue me?
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Nov 7, 2020
Nov 7, 2020 at 7:31 AM UTC
When I become rich I will become a mad animal lady.
Society declines The green frog wears his bowler hat and carries an umberella while he's waiting for the train that takes him to Kings Cross A Zebra reads the paper turning over pages as a badger sits on a bench smoking a cigarette for his health he doesn't really give a toss The dragon fly is floating and it's colour seems to be blue and green shining in the morning as he checks the time and the train is late so now we're running at a loss Two mice are still yawning because they stayed up last night to watch the boxing and they had to paint the house in matt or gloss The train arrives and they all bundle on and no one sits beside the wasps in case they feel like stinging but lives are lost and the snails with their hair so long are going to uni to study slow motion as I guess anything else would be just a doss The train arrives at it's destination and all the animals go their separate ways as another rat race starts at 8.08am and two ferrets drink their decaffs because they are so rich and they are boss
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Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 12:32 AM UTC
Society declines
The sun played its usual tricks on the leaves putting colour and composition into autumns grandeur but winter lurked just underneath this cosmetic skin waiting to burst starflung into every crevice where the ice remains as cold as a frozen temperament. Deep within the earth the heart of the seed will rest embraced by the long wait to be ****** out of the earths womb into spring where the soft sun and wind and rain will reach out and grab the arms of the emerging shoot claw it above ground and set it free into the wide world of evolution. Welcome the rain, remnants of noahs ark that bloats the soil and sand and pulls the roots back into the ground while coursing through the veins of the resplendent tree reaching for the sky and wind and wonder of life and dressed in foliage and flowers the kingdom of believers will arrive to set foot under shade and succulent tube to nourish themselves in bounty and beauty Autumn will return from its journey to touch a clock and take the baton of beauty back again. A year gone. Older. Wiser. Smarter. Author Notes A journey through the four seasons. It summer in New Zealand and sizzling. Its not the best summer to write about. Soon it will fall into the next cycle and all that I write about will repeat. I took my dog, Petals for a walk yesterday. She always stops at one particular flowering bed and ferrets out-whatever. That's when the poem came to me. Hope you enjoy the poem. To those caught in blizzards and ice and snow wherever, remember, there is beauty in that too! Just gotta love it-which ever way. Its nice to be alive. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
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Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
The Four Seasons
The sun played its usual tricks on the leaves putting colour and composition into autumns grandeur but winter lurked just underneath this cosmetic skin waiting to burst starflung into every crevice where the ice remains as cold as a frozen temperament. Deep within the earth the heart of the seed will rest embraced by the long wait to be ****** out of the earths womb into spring where the soft sun and wind and rain will reach out and grab the arms of the emerging shoot claw it above ground and set it free into the wide world of evolution. Welcome the rain, remnants of noahs ark that bloats the soil and sand and pulls the roots back into the ground while coursing through the veins of the resplendent tree reaching for the sky and wind and wonder of life and dressed in foliage and flowers the kingdom of believers will arrive to set foot under shade and succulent tube to nourish themselves in bounty and beauty Autumn will return from its journey to touch a clock and take the baton of beauty back again. A year gone. Older. Wiser. Smarter. Author Notes A journey through the four seasons. It summer in New Zealand and sizzling. Its not the best summer to write about. Soon it will fall into the next cycle and all that I write about will repeat. I took my dog, Petals for a walk yesterday. She always stops at one particular flowering bed and ferrets out-whatever. That's when the poem came to me. Hope you enjoy the poem. To those caught in blizzards and ice and snow wherever, remember, there is beauty in that too! Just gotta love it-which ever way. Its nice to be alive. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
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