Mind the gap: Work-in-progress

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She's the flinger of plurabilly teas,

She was, once-upon-a-golden-time;

And a good time it was two,

Despite the old hairy gobeen man,

Who was a-coming down a road,

drinking from a can.

She met a nice-uns-little boy name Baby Tookoo,

Her mother slopped her drat story.

Her rather had a leery face:

Sin, sin, Jesuitical-sin


Oh! No! For she shrew the grass darkly

Her baby, a faerie sprite,

Was so-so full o’spite:
milk white, lemon yellow, black taste, quite

She slangalong:

Oh why is mi wife in a miner quay?

Oh! why do me words a-mutter-to me?


And have she a goblin’s pretty face ?
and have she a-thought o'him, me, a-man-made o’lace?

Wiv her yellowish plait
She cud fright-a-cat

But, oh! Nip! she only have her seams 
She spread her dreams under me feet

Me feet, dancing dainty, to waltz her to love me.

◄ Arriving where we started



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Thu 24th Oct 2019 23:13

This is my fourth reading now, then on to the next one and the fight with Steerpike. Irresistible. We can't help but be inspired by the genius. We can dream of a vast banqueting table, you at one end and me at the other under candelabras, passing the cruets and feasting on the love of words. As you say, not many of us....

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John Marks

Thu 24th Oct 2019 23:03

I loved those Gormenghast novels. Mervyn Peake, was so under-rated and so brilliant. Thanks for noticing Ray. Not many of us left, is there? 😎

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Thu 24th Oct 2019 22:37

Remarkable John. A free thinking and spirited dance with words, all doing their own thing to entrance us - and we can't help but see the whole picture Lear like imagery. I am reading Titus Groan now, and this would be required reading as light relief to that.


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