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Monthly Archives: October 2014

Ding Dong! The bully is gone

Barroso steps down after ten years in office

as European Commission President

Barroso the Bully

Ding Dong! The bully is gone. Which old bully? The Barroso Bully!
Ding Dong! Barroso Bully is gone.
Wake up you sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, Barroso Bully is gone. He’s gone where the goblins go,
Below – below – below. Yo-ho, let’s open up and sing and ring the bells out.
Ding Dong’ the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.
Let them know Barroso Bully is gone!

************************

 

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Posted by on October 31, 2014 in EU, politics

 

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Double, double toil and trouble

stories for children

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Writer crazy, madman he,
In the maelstrom boil with glee.
*
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Author’s charm and writer’s sting,
Wizard sage; wolf dog sing.
*
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Read it with your glowering brood,
Read if fast, quick and good.

 
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Posted by on October 30, 2014 in Halloween

 

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Pumpkin Heads are Coming to Town

Pumpkin Heads, at the Crazymad Writer's blog

Oh, you’d better not shriek
You’d better not groan
You’d better not howl
You’d better not moan
Pumpkin Heads are coming to town.
*
They’re making a list of those they meet
Those who will get tricks
And those who deserve treats
Pumpkin Heads are coming to town.
*
They’re searching every pumpkin patch
Haunted houses far and near
To see if you’ve been spreading gloom
Or bringing lots of cheer.
*
Oh, you’d better not shriek
You’d better not groan
You’d better not howl
You’d better not moan
Pumpkin heads are coming to town.

 
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Posted by on October 30, 2014 in Halloween

 

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Eat, drink and be scary…

Eat, drink and be scary,

For on Halloween, we DIE.. 

Scary stories for childen and adults - ARRRGH.

 
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Posted by on October 30, 2014 in Halloween

 

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Call of the Kindred

Call of the Kindred

Come to me, little mortal
I can bring you to heaven’s portal
There’ll be no sorrow, there’ll be no pain
Feelings of joy will fill your brain

*

Come to me, sweet human thing
Give me your heart and I’ll make it sing
Forget your fears, leave them behind
Forget the troubles of your kind
Come to me… yes, that’s right
Now hold still, it’s no good to fight
I’ll take your blood, and leave you dying
Didn’t you realise I could be lying?

Solinquair, 1996

 
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Posted by on October 30, 2014 in Halloween, poems, vampires

 

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Ghost House

I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.
.
O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.
.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;
.
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.
.
It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me—
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.
.
They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,—
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.

……………..

 
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Posted by on October 30, 2014 in Halloween, poems, Scary

 

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You are old, Crazymad Writer…

A very old man at the Crazymad Writer's blog

“You are old, Crazymad Writer,” the youth said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”
*
“In my youth,” Crazymad Writer said to the son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”
*
“You are old,” said the youth, “As I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
Pray, what is the reason of that?”
*
“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box—
Allow me to sell you a couple?”
*
“You are old,” said the youth, “And your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”
*
“In my youth,” the writer explained, “I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”
*
“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose—
What made you so awfully clever?”
*
“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Said the writer; “don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!”
**************

 

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