Best Hair Of The Dog Poems
Here we are in 1650, which is ten minutes to five
swing the wheel to the West, which is left,
put your sun cream away, man the mizzen and the stays
as we set off for some murder and some theft.
You'll find us as your hosts on the sunny Barbary Coast
and from there we venture forth to ply our trade
we've been out leaving them for dead from the Atlantic to the Med
before we skittle off back home our fortunes made
With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days
As I previously stated we all get inebriated
from our copious imbibing of the grog
our excuse is there's no Cola in the bars of Hispaniola
which is why we need the hair of the dog
With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days
Got a woman in Bermuda and another in Tortuga
and they give me lots of lovin' for some coins
and although they're very foxy they're just both a pair of doxies
which I'm sure explains the rash around me groin
With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days
Now we're really no buffoons when it comes down to doubloons
and our treasure chests are burstin' at the seams
then old Blackbeard started spouting about doing our accounting
so I said (before I shot him) 'in your dreams'
(ye chorus)
As we skirmish the Atlantic I was starting to get frantic
since the one thing on my voyage I've always feared
is the men who've not been coming for a while across some women
have all started wearing lipstick, which is weird
(arr, the chorus again)
Well it's reached that point me hearties where we anchor down and party
so me shipmates here on board I'd like to thank
though the mix of food and beer has now given me diarrhea
which is why I've made our cook just walk the plank
(for thee last time, chorus, arrrr)
September 17th 2015, 'A pirate's life for me' contest, sponsor Kelly Deschler
(Author's note- there are several spellings of diarrhea, but it doesn't matter, they all have 'arr' in 'em, me hearties)
Come and Find Me in My Solitude
four fingers in a water glass
to keep the “creep” away
four fingers in a water glass
to keep the curse at bay
no ice, let’s keep it quiet,
hard bite of whiskey’s sting
“hair of the dog that bit ya”
as the dying grey wolves sing
rocking inside the boxcars
camping beside the track
drowning dreams of a yesterday
that’s never coming back
huddled beneath “newsprint” blankets
curled in pain’s fetal ball
dreading the sounds of the sunset
fearing the crash of night’s fall
praying for death in a doorway
shivering against marbled stone
a vision through slow closing eyelids
of somebody calling him home
12/2/2016
submitted to – COME AND FIND ME IN MY SOLITUDE – Poetry Contest
Hoboes and bamboo
Lay up in the green belt
Waiting for the romanticism of war
The hair of the dog
Doesn’t give up much more
Than a buzz that never ends
Somewhere a mother sheds a tear
For the son she lost in Vietnam
He came home but not to her
Every night he goes downtown
And drinks till dawn
Spends his days on a corner
With a sign asking to give
And a pocket full of blues
Anything will help
Lost souls MIA
Time can’t stop the fools
Who don’t believe that war
Scars the strong and the weak
Sitting in your car wondering
If it’s real
The whole damn town
Wonders
The whole damn town
Doesn’t give a damn
But someone should
Someone should ask the question
What’s a dollar to a hobo?
Means nothing to you
Could mean the world to him
Defined By Idioms
Naked truth, bent nails
dead men tell no tales
bad Apple, broken mirrors
burnt out light bulbs, crocodile tears
spilt milk, goose chase
two cents worth, rat race
rotten egg, bad to the bone
eagle eye, no place like home.
bat from hell,
pulled punch
big cheese,
no free lunch
can of worms, bleeding heart
knock on wood,
till death do us part
bite the bullet, checkered past
good as gold,
last laugh
burning bridges,
ball of wax
hold your horses start from scratch
wooden nickels ace up your sleeve
hair of the dog
all Greek to me
axe to grind
behind the eight ball
bigger they are
the harder they fall
jack of all trades cat's got your tongue
fair weathered friend
like father like son
small world
on thin ice
speak of the Devil roll of the dice
blood's thicker than water
lie like a rug
dime a dozen
when push comes to shove
dog eared pages
eye for an eye
bury the hatchet how time flies clean as a whistle C
chew the fat
crime doesn't pay. cover my ass
throw me under the bus gentle as a lamb
cold shoulder
hit the fan
buyer beware
woman's work never done
never say never
takes one to know one
come Hell or high water
pissing in the wind
pretty as a picture through thick and thin
beat a dead horse pass the buck
whole nine yards down on my luck
life’s a
don't rock boat
needless to say
go for broke
My life is the sum of trite cliches
Jaded expressions
so worthless so worn
I couldn't give it away
The Hair of the Dog
You can drink til your dead as a log
And get up with your head in a fog
tomato juice cocktail
two jiggers ginger ale
and a taste of the hair of the dog
She calls you, you’re jumpy as a frog
you act cool, your head still in a grog
she says just come on by
You can unzip your fly
for a taste of the hair of the dog
In three days you feel she needs a flog
To the doctor, you go, brain agog
Three shots you need to get
Ere you can even wet
Without cussing the hair of the dog
© Aug 28 2010 For Andrea’s “Doggone Dog” Contest
I have a favourite Nazareth tune.
When I sing it I must sound like a loon.
"Hair of the Dog" is the one
I sing out loudly for fun,
But the bad language makes some people swoon.
Today is Monday, start of the week
Open my eyes, give the clock a peek
It’s time to wake up and clear my head
I guess I better get out of bed
Wednesday is considered “humpper day”
Half of the week’s gone, or so they say
A lot to do, must shake out the lead
I guess I better get out of bed
Friday at last, T-G-I-F
Bar-B- Que tonight and I’m the chef
This is a good day, nothing to dread
I guess I better get out of bed
The weekend is here, party time
Just an excuse for me to unwind
On Saturday I’ll drink too much Red
It’s noon before I get out of bed
Sunday, a little “Hair of the Dog”
To help let my mind clear out the fog
When I awake I feel like I’m dead
I guess I better get out of bed
The wine that my ancestors drank
I found in an old copper tank
It was bitter and red
And went straight to my head
As into a stupor I sank
Now the cure was much worse than the bite
Unless you kept drinking all night
Twas the hair of the dog
Got you out of the fog
Along with the early morn light
Now the moral of the story I’m told
Is to not drink the wine that’s this old
Stick with Bartles and Jaymes
And other known names
Then only drink what you can hold
Mdailey 6/18/11 (4:11 PM)
Contest: bottle of wine
Old dogs will not learn new tricks
Young dogs love to play heads and tails and chase after sticks
Give a dog a bad name
Hi meet my new puppy, I called him Saddam Hussain
Your the man now dog
You son of a *****, thats rich
Every dog has his day
Monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, fido, saturday, sunday
Alpha male
Beta *****
Running with both hounds and hares
Cant make his mind up if he is a dog, who cares
A not unblack dog was chasing a not unsmall rabbit across a not ungreen field
Meanwhile the white dog ran after a hare through the rape seed
Meaner than a junk yard dog
$50.00 for an old fender
Hair of the dog
Too much grog
Go see a man about a dog
Go get some more grog
One Two Many
Startled by the sight of
the horse in my bath tub
I stumbled into the den
feeling blindly for the bottle.
Horse liniment for the soul
“hair of the dog that bit ya”
enough to make the horse
leave without asking questions.
A flashing, portable, CAUTION sign
winked at me as I entered the bed room
its intermittent orange glow highlighting
an unknown movement in the bed.
DAMN!! Had we taken the police dog too???
1/27/2017
submitted to – It’s time for hilarious poetries – Poetry Contest
You don't have to go home
but you can't stay here
It's getting on closing time
Better drink up your beer
Lately I've been wondering
When my mind is liquor free
Am I drinking from the bottle
Or is the bottle drinking me
Those night's when I'm full throttle
Foot loose and fancy free
I'm too wrapped up in the moment
To really clearly see
When I crave a hair of the dog that bit
After an A one first class bender
My liver, or what is left of it
Is screaming uncle, I surrender
As I look in the mirror, I’m a road map of lines
My eyes are all bloodshot; it’s a sign of the times
When did it happen, I really don’t know
When more grey hairs than brown ones decided to grow
My head is still pounding, Can’t remember last night
And the bathroom bulb seems ever so bright
I am aching all over and my throat feels quite rough
But some bacon and eggs sorts me out soon enough
An unhealthy lifestyle takes it's toll in due course
Shapes a body well ravaged with much room for remorse
I should heed the changes advised by my peers
To add years to my life and life to my years
I will fend off temptations that won’t let me be
Find a way that results in a much fitter me
I will get some fresh air; Rid my head of this fog
(Then I might just pop in for a hair of the dog)
I’ve always been a fit bloke and can’t remember when,
my last visit to a doctor was, and what for way back then.
I’ve always eaten what I liked and drank gallons of grog,
then had no fear of the morning, and a hair of the dog.
But just a week ago at a reunion at my club,
there was seafood, whisky; mountains of fast food grub,
and what a night it was, before I staggered down the street,
heading home and satisfied; the reunion felt complete.
Then with the morning, I felt like something wasn’t right,
for when I moved my left foot; something happened overnight.
My left big toe was very painful; I could not rest it on the floor,
so to make it to the kitchen it was quite a chore.
I tried retracing all my steps, from when I left the exit door,
to try and find the reason for, why my toe is so damn sore.
But try as hard as I might, I couldn’t get my mind to click,
even though I can’t remember, I must have kicked a brick.
I couldn’t stand the touch, of a sock, or shoe, or sheet.
I’ve got to have a broken toe; it’s so red and full of heat.
There was no way to relieve, the pain that’s killing me,
so it looks like a visit to a doctor, to see what it could be.
The doctor took one look at me and nodded his knowing head,
telling me I need to change my lifestyle or I won’t get out of bed.
It’s a bad case of podagra, something I’ve never heard about,
until he spoke my language; it’s a raging case of gout.
So to you fitness fanatics who think that you will be immune,
don’t take your eyes off the ball or you might sing a different tune.
I thought I was invinsible, and could indulge a stomach breakout,
and the last thing that I thought I’d suffer, was a case of gout.
So you woke up face down on
the street
And you don't know the time
or day of the week
And want me to serve you a
hair of the dog
To steady your nerves and
clear out the fog.
If the last thing you remember
from the night before
Is the bird she that she flipped
as she walked through the
door
And she wasn't suggesting you
was her number one
You got a whole lot of crawling
ahead of you son.
Now I ain't no expert on God's
fairer sex
You can check, here's the
number you can go call my ex
But you musta done something
to make the girl sad
Cos the bird is reserved for the
baddest of bad
You better pick up the phone
and hitch up your jeans
And beg her forgiveness for
being so mean
Some flowers wouldn't hurt,
even throw in a nice dinner
Cos from where I was standing
she looked like a winner.
Hair Of The Dog
As my Precious sits on my desk,
shedding and watching with interest.
I take a drink from my cup.
A hair sticks to my tongue..eew yuk.
She is pleased with herself and wags,
her tail, hair flies off like flags.
They are small, black and everywhere.
Making patterns on all of the chairs.
Little drifting smiles of hair,
residing on my clothes without care.
This much hair from a small Chihuahua,
it's not possible, no not at all.
It's not as if she's going bald.
But then, Kojack, she could be called.
Oh look! You have some hair that she's shared.
I'll take care of that, you wait right there.
I'll just run and get my trusty lint roller.
Better yet! I'll get my leaf blower.
For the Doggone Dog Contest
Hostess: Andrea Dietrich
Placement: 2nd