"There's noone like a beagle"
(SATB a capella)
Oh, there's noone like a beagle
When his ears are long and soft
And he's prancing down the hallway
With his tail held aloft
And you're sitting on the toilet
And he noses ope the door,
Drops his chew toy in your knickers
Which then sink down to the floor.
Too roo loo, too roo loo, too roo loo, beagle!
Too roo loo, too roo loo, too roo loo, loo!
15 comments:
Oh, there’s noone like a kitten
With her whiskers long and white
And she’s chasing paper figments
With her eyes so wide and bright
And you’re sitting on the toilet
As she pounces through the door,
Tries to leap onto your lap, but misses,
And lands sheepish on the floor.
Too roo loo, too roo loo, too roo loo, kitten!
Too roo loo, too roo loo, too roo loo, loo!
Dear Anonymous-the-Poet,
That's fine work. Have you considered adopting a nom de keyboard? Perhaps 'Woolen Lispa' would be appropriate?
Love, A Slyer Thinker
Oh, there's noone like a sibling
When she comments on your blog
On the subject of her kitten
Or the subject of your dog
Except another sibling
Who replies unto the first
And uses quite the pseudonym
Although her name is Kirst.
Too roo loo, too roo loo, too roo loo, sisters!
Too roo loo, too roo loo, too roo loo, loo!
(I'm slowly starting to lose my faith in the poetic efficacy of "too roo loo".)
Oh, there's nothing like a anagram
To hide ones true ID
(Though PAW OLE LIONS, etc,
Won’t trick my family.)
Perhaps I’ll choose A WOOLLEN SLIP?
Or A EPSILON OWL might do?
Or perhaps somehow A NOSE PILLOW
Could ID you-know-who.
Too roo loo, too roo loo, too roo loo, wordplay!
Too roo loo, too roo loo, too roo loo, loo!
Oops, I must have sipped
from A POISON WELL,
as A WOOLLEN SLIP
has an extra L.
Cripes, I must have slipped into a barnyard rather than Alexis' blog comments, as this place is full of hounds and kittens and epsilon owls and lions, not to mention nose pillows. Oh well, you can all go in the pie that I'm making. Kitten goes so well with owl!
Australian cuisine at its finest, Tim. Sanitarium has just launched a new line of "I Can't Believe It's Not Owl" for the vegetarian gourmand.
Sister-the-eldest, "Wool Spaniel" is BRILLIANT! You da anagrammer.
Sing a song of siblings,
A pocket full of rye;
Four-and-twenty sisters
Baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened,
They all began to sing:
What a dainty dish it was
To set before the [since we are in an non-aristocratic society I'll have to think of some other word to use than King]
This is just getting plain sinister. No sibling of mine will be baked in a pie, thank you very much, monarchy or no monarchy. Sanitarium's "I Can't Believe It's Not Sibling", though, well, that's another story.
Hi there timt,
Alas, the days of being a four-and-twenty sibling are long gone. Now it's more like two-and-forty. With three-and-forty rapidly approaching. (The numbers are far smaller for the younger'ns, naturally.)
As for pies and singing - now there's an appealing combination to distract a person from the onward march of time.
By crikey, with such a preponderance of siblings, one wonders whether there's something in the water over there. Are you all sister-siblings? Because that would make it like the plot of Herland, more than a little intimidating to humble members of the patriarchy such as myself.
Wool Spaniel, two-score-and-three is where it's at. I have it on good authority. I can't belief the eldest Wool Spaniel pup is turning 13, though. When did she stop being 2?
Then again, I come from a family of four boys, and ancestors in the Train clan ended up ushering into the world something like eight female progeny, so it's not that unusual.
So they call it "something in the water", do they? It caused the parents, so legend goes, to exceed their already quite substantial reproductive plans. There is a brother, you'll be relieved to hear. Fine strapping fellow in his thirties.
(NB: I think when Wool Spaniel referred to herself as a two-and-forty sibling, she was referring to her age, not the size of her family.)
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