For all budding poets, limerickers and jokesters.
Marutfans
About those whom the Marut brought together
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Sent in by Bhushan Narang;
Father O’Malley rose from his bed one morning. It was a fine spring day in his new Ballina parish.
He walked to the window of his bedroom to get a deep breath of the beautiful day outside. He then noticed there was a donkey lying dead in the middle of his front lawn. Not knowing who else to call, he promptly called the local police station.
The conversation went like this:
”Good morning. This is Sergeant Jones. How might I help you?”
“And the best of the day ter yer good self. This is Father O’Malley at St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church. There’s a donkey lying dead right in der middle of me front lawn ”
Sergeant Jones, considering himself to be quite a wit, replied with a smirk, “Well now Father, it was always my impression that you people took care of the last rites!”
There was dead silence on the line for a long moment and then Father O’Malley replied:
“Ah, ‘to be sure, that is true; but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin.”
Humour & Fun is Tonic at this age !
Keep going at it & Blog at any stage.
Bobby’s brave, he’s quick and the smallest
A Maruteer, surely the smartest
He is oh so witty
And quick on repartee:
When Gabbu of 10, as usual with a frown
Lined up the pilots for a stern dressing down
There was Jit, Mickey, Mini. Sis, Jugjug, Keru, Panchi
If I left you out, blame my failed memory; not crunchy
Bobby’s spot was the last with both his hands behind
He scribbled on the wall which was already lined
With notches, like those on the nose of the Marut
To keep count of the enemy who went Kaput.
When 220′s Mini went dating in Mumbai
And watched Naval Fire Power Show off Marine Drive
Bob called it Naval Firin’
With lots of Seamen thrown in.
I missed out SK; so here is the updated version of the doggerel:
Bobby’s brave, he’s quick and the smallest
A Maruteer, surely the smartest
He is oh so witty
And quick on repartee:
When Gabbu of 10, as usual with a frown
Lined up the pilots for a stern dressing down
There was Jit, Mickey, Mini. Sis, Jugjug, Keru, Panchi
If I left you out, blame my failed memory; not crunchy
SK stood there in a class all his own
He was the C.O’s favourite thorn
Bobby’s spot was the last; with one hand behind
Drew a notch on the wall which was already lined
Like the Marut’s mark for each of its missions
He kept count of the Boss’s pep talk sessions
When 220′s Mini went dating in Mumbai
And watched Navy’s Fire Power Show off Marine Drive
Bob called it, “Naval Firin’
With lots of Seamen thrown in”.
Passed on by Maj Dadademery:
The Horse and Mule live 30 years,
And nothing know of Wine and Beers.
The Goat and Sheep at 20 die,
With never a taste of Scotch or Rye .
The Cow drinks Water by the ton,
And at 18 is mostly done.
The Dog at 16 cashes in,
Without the aid of Rum or Gin.
The Cat in Milk and Water soaks,
And then in 12 short years it croaks.
The modest, sober, bone dry Hen,
Lays eggs for nogs, then dies at ten.
All animals are strictly dry,
They sinless live & swiftly die.
But Sinful, Ginful, Rum soaked Men,
Survive for 3 score years and ten.
And some of us, the Mighty Few,
Stay pickled till we’re 102.
The Horse and mule song has been around quite a while; See:
http://www.google.ca/search?q=The+Horse+and+Mule+live+30+years&sourceid=ie7&rls=com.microsoft:en-ca:IE-SearchBox&ie=&oe=&redir_esc=&ei=uUBpTbrgI8X_lgfP_oz_AQ
It is still deft humour.
This is my not-so-poetic response:
All critters are strictly dry
That’s why they are all so spry
They spend all day dating
Their hearts go boom mating
Some boys start in their ‘teen
And others at twenty somethin’
A virgin, they say, in the Americas
Is a 10 year old who out-ran all the boys
Still it takes a decade or more
For humans to open the score
By then our animal peers
Are already gramps and more
While you ‘n’ I are still toddling
They’ve aready done their coddling
And being such noble creatures
Make way for their young in breeches
And that my dear fellows is why
So early these animals die.
When Smokin’ Joe ‘n’ Bobby flew by
The enemy were hiding nigh
They cowered under camouflage
But Hufrid’s eyes were sharp and large
The Maruts blew them up sky high
Limericks are easy to do. Why not have a go and see for yourself? They don’t even need to make sense. You might discover some hidden talents. I never knew that I would be put in a class of poets. So, here goes this poet’s five minute effort:-
T’was lots of fun flying reheated Maruts
They were just like exploding cheroots
At times they were fast and gave pleasure
Or they could cost your life and treasure
But designers cared for you just two hoots
The Marut’s like nothing h’ed tasted
For she was so tender waisted
with a figure of eight fuselage
She gave one-on-one tutelage
Leaving him punch drunk and pasted
“Nothing remains firm as we grow old”,
said the Marut pilot; once so bold
He’d go up and down,
roll left and right and wiggle from side to side
But now, try all he might, no more could he take her for a joy ride
For the tools of his trade, this swash buckle blade, had turned so soggy and cold.
Along comes Ms Harris, whom Hugh Hefner marries
He has freedom in all three Axes
He says, “X, Y and Zee
Are just OK for me,
I’m ‘firm’ ’cause I take Cialis
Krish Menon
A very fine game is the Indian Air Force
For, it sure has many a pretty golf course
But, woe to you if golf you never did play
A most junior sprog or so you’d ever stay
‘Cos the gang’s best clubs were the HF-24s
With best wishes,
Kapil Bhargava