Long Fer Poems
Long Fer Poems. Below are the most popular long Fer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fer poems by poem length and keyword.
Unquotable quotes - III
When in Rome, do as the Roman Nero.
The rain in Spain falls mainly on the vain and the
insane.
A grenade a day keeps the refugee away.
Cut your coat according to your girth.
The kettle calling the pot back.
Like father, like son; like mother, like neither.
Singing in the rain can get you pain in Spain.
Singing in the rain in Paris can get you chicks who do
the twist with fairies.
A sound heart in a sick body is like a tart groggy with
toddy.
The sun also rises best in the West.
Who said beggars are not choosers: they can choose the
place and moment they beg.
A white tiger abhors orange.
A policeman’s girl always wears handcuffs behind her
back.
A lawyer who licks the back of hands always gets paid
first.
A judge who yells at you tends to reduce the sentence to
a phrase.
Building castles in the air with sand is cheaper by far.
A marathon runner remembers the thighs but not the
laps.
At the end of the day is when you make your greatest
mistake – you go to sleep.
Churn milk to make curd: churn speech to make turd.
Pounding rice as a marriage rite brings no surprise on
the wedding night.
One swallow doesn’t make a drunkard out of a
teetotaller, but it sure signals a dry summer.
Cricketing jargon
The late-cut is the shave you missed out.
The off-cut is the cover drive turned phut.
The leg-pull is the batsman’s bras de fer to the leg
spinner.
The long-stop is the twelth man on the field.
The straight drive pierces the umpire’s reverie.
The full-toss is the fast bowler’s slipped disc.
The ton-up comes after the spin bowlers give up.
The innings defeat is the army beating the retreat.
Test matches end up in ditches for pitches.
A bumper is an un-coded message from the bowler to the
batsman.
A bumper is an overt warning to the inveterate blocker.
Tail-enders get to face the best batsmen all-rounders.
Umpires inspect pitches at the start of a match for coins
dropped by lawn-mowers.
An over-throw is a fielded ball flung by an outfielder at
the umpires and which misses the wickets by miles.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
" Rime of the Ridiculous Mariner "
{warbled to the Merry Tune: Jingle Bells!}
Jingle Bells & Flyin' Hulls
All sheets in so tight~
Yikes Ahoy! There's the ploy!
Sail right through this night!
Run downwind beat to weather
fall off as ye wish~
Set your mizzen up yer main
tops'ls catch all flyin' fish!
All's well in yer cockleshell
if'n yer head be screwed on right~
Ne'er fear horizon's near
as ye sail as though in flight!
Some shall say if they may
yer off yer rocker tonight~
They them are whot's ne'er far
from bein' sunk from sight!
So this I say to them that may
now hold your hands aloft!
Fer if ye think a sieve will sink
yer mind is goin' soft~
A hole is but what a troll doth see
when all is nightly dark~
For they who may shall thusly say
to all a merry Hark!
Plug yer doubts & ne'er pout
for all shall soon be fine~
Break the cask & lift the flask
let's drink up all this wine!
Sail the ship & give the slip
to all that's dark & dull~
Rock & roll fill the bowl
let's sail this mighty hull!
To those who think this rime doth stink..
damn I say to ye~
Try yerself those wines top shelf
& stand so we all may see!
Fer if yer not all outta pot
& ain't fell in the drink~
I'll pipe right down without a frown
& really begin to think!
The smoke will show all such folk
whot's made me mind so daft~
Fer always have me wishes come
of that whot's all abaft!
One day soon shall then I swoon
as knowledge comes to me~
That all me life I've had me wife
around me as the sea!
Now this then is reason 'tis
me sits alone in bed~
Fer last wench was had me heart
we fell so soon apart!
She caught me far below the keel
& spoutin' off me spiel~
I tried me best but failed the test
got caught showin' off me eel!
Now I sail tied to the rail
for all mermaids to see~
He who did dare to bid
for just a moment's glee!
All whot was dear & near
such truly did'st I wish~
But Har! 'Twas sure underrr that keel
she surely was a dish!
Avast! Ye say! 'Tis way too much
all this rime of such~
So shall I agree as with my sea
fer I've had me quite a touch!
I'll leave ye now & point me bow
into a raging wave~
Fer now ye know I'm all a'blow
& naught but sea do crave!
Jingle Bells & Flyin' Hulls
All sheets in so tight~
Yikes Ahoy! There's the ploy!
I'll sail right through this night!
SeaWolf
©
Cap'n & the Wench *part the third*
Says the Wench t'the Cap'n "Me thinks I'll have me a Gin!"
So says the Cap'n t'the Wench " Go right ahead Me Dear~
Fer now I'll surely Win!"
With an Evil Grin & a Twinkle in his Eye~
So's the Wench did notice & then By & By~
& did say to the Cap'n "Be mindin' Yer P's & Q's!"
"Fer Me's the Wench what Decides that which Ye Do!"
"Yer no Grinnin'Porpoise & that there's no Danged Flipper!"
"Har!" says the Cap'n ~ "I am though the Skipper!"
The Wench ran B'low to the Galley fer Sure!
The Cap'n did follow yet His Timin' was Poor!
She'd already laid 'er hands on that Bottle O'Gin~
So Mightily Fast She did give the Skipper a Spin!
Once for a Second this Pyrate did Think~
That Fer Sure He was Now on the Very Brink!
But Nay was the Word passed Along from the Deck~
Fer the Wench had decided~ "Aaaarrrrggghhhh! What the Heck!"
She sat Calmly at the Helm givin' the Great Wheel a Turn~
Fer surely She was decidin' this Ol'SeaWolf to Spurn!
When Lo & Behold the Cap'n Sauntered to the Cockpit~
And 'twas Plain to see he was a'Chompin at the Bit!
Grabs the Wench He does with Muscle & Sinew~
"I'd rather Lil'Wench Ye Stuck to the Brew!
Fer Yer Manner is Bold and Wild without Reason~
And 'tis a Great Job O'Work fer Ye to be a'Pleasin!"
Now the Wench did Ponder a Moment or Two~
Whilst the Sky sent Forth a Bolt from the Blue~
She'd wondered what it was had Caused her to Forgit~
That which She'd a'wanted fer a Tiny lil' Bit!
Up Jumped She & Bolted off to the Deck!
Just as the Cap'n was givin' her a Peck!
Now this was all 'twas needed to Bring to Mind~
That which this Wench sorely needed to Find!
Now in Ports where all Pyrates finally to a Dock come a'Side~
Ne'er does a Man or Woman really Know how was that Wild Ride~
Now the Bows & the Belly of the Ship were Finally Quiet~
The Wench had gone Below with Her Bellyachin' Pyrate!
The Moon did Rise with Splendor that very Night~
Throughout the Great Ship 'twas the Only Light!
For the Cap'n & his Wench had Decided to Tease~
And this Was the Way They each Other did Please!
The Great Ship is Seen Oft enough Sailin' Agin on the Seas....
With Always enough Gin with which that Hardy Wench to Please!
SeaWolf
The day began with a shouting match between a cowpoke and his horse.
It became so heated and continued all day until they both became hoarse.
Old Dan maintained that the cowpoke was so obese it caused his back to sag!
The cowpoke dug in his spurs and called Old Dan a "Naggy Nag"!
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
"You cinch the saddle so tight I can hardly breathe", Old Dan declared.
"Then you ride me in the dust of the Drag with my nostrils flared"!
"Yer as lazy and stubborn as an old army mule"!, the cowpoke replied.
"At calf ropin' time you let me down...even old milk cows out-run you"! he cried.
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
"Neigh! Neigh! Stop jabbin' me with them spurs!
I'm gonna' buck you off even though I am yers!
You ride me hard and nary a word of praise do I get"!
"If'n you keep on that whinny-whinin' I'll trade you fer a mule yet!
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
"You can't even throw a loop on a cow you so-and-so,
And you need a lot more practice usin' that old lasso!
When you do git one I stand and hold the rope still...
Even though your chance of throwin' him are oh so nil"!
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
"I can rope 'em and throw 'em and brand 'em too,
If I only got a little more help from you!
Oh, you know I'm just spoutin' about that army mule..."
"Well, I know you aint that much of a fool".
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
As the cowpoke pulled the saddle off Old Dan that night,
He took an apple from his pocket and gave him a bite.
"I'll be gettin' you some better food and some new shoes too,
Just to show you I wanna' make it up to you".
NYEIGH! THIS IS MORE OF WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... YEA!
Old Dan got a little teary eyed when this he heard,
Bowed his head...then nuzzled up the cowpoke without a word.
There never was another day between them with this kind of discourse,
Peace again, between the cowpoke and Old Dan, his horse.
Co-written by: Robert L. Hinshaw and Dan Cwiak for Duet Contest
written 12/20 - 12/25/15
The Camp Cooky’s singin again outa tune,
about turnin 60 today around noon
"What good is there in it?" I hear him say,
and it got me to thinkin . . . seein it was his birthday
It seems bein 60’s got two spins to that tale,
one frittered and wrinkled, the other covered in shale
The one who’s 60 if truth be told,
is still younger than all those 61—to real old
In the campfire’s crackle of light I can see,
how everyone younger, is likely dumber than me
So if my hands struggle with the knots and riggin fer sure,
the knowin and the tellin to those younger’s worth more
Havin outlived many a cow horse, while lovin them all,
the awnry and skitterish, the short and the tall
The summers ridin drag, and the worst winters mendin fence,
with a slicker full a holes, and that ol dog with no sense
And while the cuttin and the brandin seems boring to some,
it’s the importance of their nature and gettin things done
When the hats and the spurs and even the saddles are all gone,
and the sun sinks over that last mountain, like in Dusty’s ol song
I’ll remember the good times, lettin go of the bad,
and think back on the pards and the ladies I’ve had
Because just like for Cooky, it happened last year to me,
and turnin 60 seemed ranker than any bronc could ever be
But like that new Visalia saddle the boss man said was now mine,
I've found somethin that’s different, somethin gentler and kind
The speed and the strength ain’t been traded for free,
and somethin woke up that I guess was sleepin in me
And as I yell to the wrangler “Cut me one gentle and nice”
without loosin too much pride I ask, “Can you help Ol Jim
cinch his riggin real tight”
Then once more in the dark I ride off in search of the herd,
singin that one favorite cow song every real hand has heard
And as I inch up on the lead steer whisperin mellow and low,
“Yippee ki yay, Ol Fella; you ready to go”
For maybe one last time we push North thru the dark,
the sun still two hours off to the right of our mark
While in the distance a wolf howls, as that lead steer catches my eye,
and in that instant I know I’m still needed—a long ways from g’bye
(Dewey Montana: Circa 1990) Read In Elko Nevada, 1993
Being an American in Australia isn’t easy,
but I’m trying to integrate;
I’m trying to fit in.
Just one of the boys with all the right expressions
under my belt, like:
pasty glut
cosmetic spring roll rut
five o’clock shadow cigarette butt.
I mean, I’m trying to integrate;
I’m trying to fit in.
I try to talk about the good ol’ U.S. of A.,
and I’ve never mentioned Uncle Sam once,
except to suspect he lives inside Colonel Sanders
who also gives me a big pain in the ass
with his mysterious suppository herbs & spices;
cos I’m trying to fit in, see?
I’m trying to integrate.
Okay, I can get nervous about women,
and cover it up under muscle and toughness, O.K.!
Say: “All sheilas are made fer ****in’!”
while dreaming:
leather cock thrust
beer lubrication
violet steak lips!
Say: “All poets are poofs!” and
beat my balls around fields of green
with wooden sticks so stiff and clean, screaming
semen icing power
spread on scones of breasts!
Bloody hell! Can’t ya see?
I’m trying to integrate,
trying to fit in.
Like wearing high-heeled snow-shoes
and roller-skater shirts;
doing al the expected things, even tho’
my Balinese sarong trips me up occasionally.
I’ve got a sun-tanned *******,
and I’m keeping me nose to the ground,
no bloody fear! I’m integrating, ya see?
Trying to sit in.
I’m a tough-fisted slow-sauntering grog-pissing
knife balling tit watching ***** hating self-deceiving
regular visionless mate of no matter:
Swallowed by deserts
and the fear of ******s;
Tortured by sun
and the freeze of lost passion;
Murdered in business;
resurrected in wages!
Enslaved in the cities and
imprisoned by FACTS
that stretch from my body
in steel rails of tracks I ride on,
I hide on:
I’ve lost where I’ve been.
But I’m integrating
(yeah, INTEGRATING!)
I’m just fitting in.
Brandin
I's jist gots back frum Y-OM_UN
An wents ta sees ma son un 'is wife
Thay war waitin fur a call ta goes helps a frien
An thays jist throwed me un.
Ut war un tha Kansas plains
Un thay war a brandin that day
I's jist watch-uz frum ma chair
I's uses a cane, taint fair.
I's jist sits un watch-uz
What all's thays done
Un 'long cums a butterfly
Un I's jist hops un.
Ut takes me fur north
Ta er ol' rench'
Un we's war busy
Brandin that day.
I's seed ma kids
Wrestlin calves ta tha groun
Stan war a brandin
Whiles I's lens a han.
Thays poks um un prods um
Un than thays brans
Un than ut's time fer tha man
With tha knife un his han.
Un Maw 'er war a cookin'
Ta feeds all a tha folks
A brandin's a big thin
So's we's all jist goes.
We's never runs short a help
Cause that air er breed
It war tha same ez ut war
Back un l850.
Wen we's war done
Un thays begans ta pairs
We's jist op-uns tha gate
Un thays un thays own frum thar.
Ma daughter-un-law
Done slaps me's un tha back
"Wal Pa,"sez 'er
"Air youse with us er un Souse Dakotie?"
I's has ta 'mits
I's war back thar
But I's 'justed
Un I's kin makes er frum 'ere
Thins ain't tha same
Ez war way back than
But I's keeps all a tha mem-or-ies
Un re-lives um a'gin.
Cile Beer
"Damn Bird"
All the King's Corsairs & Grand Sailors them all!
Went to winds in efforts enthralled~
Ken o'lone sailor whot's ayre so then gone~
Nay naught e'er whot's seen any day's dawn~
For once they did'st sail seas then so steep~
Naught o'fear o'anywhot's ayre 'er deep~
& the corsair's king has gone off to sleep~
Arrrrggh...then did'st a'come a'thunder & gale~
Off far away from a distance seen her sail~
Sloop sleek & stealth by her wake~
Hard into harbour fast did she make~
'Round embattlements under cannons hard roar~
O'er her topmast that damned bird did soar~
Eye at meown & hard as cobalt~
As if it all were meveryown fault!~
Now did'st damn bird aloft at me back~
Find in me mainsheet a tad o'such slack~
As to lay 'er booms wind'ard & set all a'back~
A'baft shall we then ride as one with a tide~
Blown 'ard fer lee shore & set to 'er rail~
Damn 'er foine line settles well in tall swell~
Cut now merry little sloop o'er those waves~
Fer damned if ya don't ye be a landsman & knave~
Begone silly bird yer toime 'as run through~
Such glass as ye know 'tis known but by few~
For all such 'as sailed seven seas~
E'er 'er tantrums & fury to please~
For all then they whot's e'er a'sea~
Such sea whot they didst tease~
Nay~Nay~ Off with ye now~
Damned bird 'overin' at me bow!
Ne'er ne'er shall a day be again~
Whot ayre me 'ad call any damn bird me friend~
Feathers whot 'as all they got good~
Better yet whot's ayre them's all but food~
Off'n me rigging damn bird ye drat~
Off'n me spars whot 'ave ye that~
Out from me cabin & away from me bow~
Out or I'll be a'chasin' ye now~
Woe be damn day whot brung such a bird~
Not ne'er o'such 'ad e'er been 'eard~
Chewin' me spars & flailin' me lines~
All round me boat & under me chines~
Where be me wind to blow off this beast~
When does me waves take away this tiny feast~
Send me a monster of feathery touch~
If'n me 'as to be put up with such~
Off damn bird & outta me 'air~
Out with ye now I'll give ye a scare~
Fly like an Eagle so ye say ye do~
Ne'er no Eagle were that which ye knew~
SeaWolf
©
" Revenant "
In direction unforeseen yet then 'nother am I drifted~
Winds have their way & through my whims have thus sifted~
Yet oft have been waves of similar significance~
Which may have been received with much less cognizance~
‘Tis said now & agin' were a man a bit more old~
Those truths which he ushered forth might not be so bold~
Were now I to be one o'the wiser & thusly called sages~
Methinks I'd be a'lookin' far far back through familiar ages~
Mebbe to those times of youth & greater glee~
Mebbe along those lines of women set so free~
Mebbe I'd look agin' & in so doin' so see~
Truth were so simply there right inside o'me~
‘Twere thoughts o'the mermaids all was it were~
If'n battles so waged created in mind still a stir~
I'd be a'not so a writin' this here little rime~
Nor fer certain would it be now not about time~
Nay say I naught ever dids't methinks~
Wherever whenever I took all me drinks~
‘Twere it so written in those stars way aloft~
Fer me to have grown old & verily so soft~
Fire dids't I breathe fer so so many o'those years~
Darin' & dancin' fer never a'knowin' such fears~
Damn'd so now to be found such a'thinkin'~
Lookin' yet agin' fer all maids to be a'winkin~
‘Tis silly methinks I've grown through these times~
So silly that methinks most always in such rimes~
Yet therein lies such question as to m'self must I ask~
‘Twas wha'for such a reason ye've taken yerself to task~
Aaaarrrrgh! Revenant! Thus I rumble from a'deep~
Awakenin' me ownself from greatest o'sleep~
‘Tis questions which do so bother me now all a'bluster~
‘Tis sense so common I'm a findin' hard to a'muster~
Answer me now those of ye in the know~
When where & wha'for does this wind now so blow~
I'm fer certain left with not any reasonable quip~
To any I'd be grateful fer any such a tip~
Nay nay now belay that I've just asked of ye all~
Fer were it fer certain time 'twouldn't be any such a ball~
Methinks I'll so settle back agin' in me familiar wild waves~
Takin' naught but those pleasures such as that which I craves!
SeaWolf
©
I learnt a lesson well today on how good hygiene works,
and how sometimes it doesn’t pay, to gain professional perks.
It was Mick the barber’s little lurk that put up this dreadful case …
I’ll never trust another soul when shaving whiskers off me face.
The local footy club had organized a social ‘do’,
on this Friday night that I had bought some tickets too,
where me wife and I will manage, to get half full and skite,
but I had to get a haircut to look half decent for the night.
So I knocked off picking apples at around a half past four,
and drove off to Mick the barber where I sat and waited for,
my turn to sit down in his chair and that could be a while,
as there are two ahead of me, and the first has little style.
His hair was long and rank and by his whiskers it appeared,
he hadn’t shaved for quite a while, so had a stubble beard.
Mick clipped his scissors through the hair; saying as it gently fell,
“Once I’ve finished with your hair would you like a shave as well?”
This fella gave his face a gentle rub and then he quietly speaks,
“My razor can’t get close enough and leaves a shadow on me cheeks,
Would I be wasting all me money here?” Mick gave a cheeky grin,
“No, not at all, for I’ll fix that” then reached inside a bin.
Mick picked up this wooden ball and fingers rolled it with his thumb,
“Just place this in your mouth between your left cheek and your gum,
I’ll pass the razor ‘round the contours and when yer feel yer cheek,
yer won’t even feel the stubble if yer don’t shave fer a week”.
I watched Mick do his business and by gee you know he’s right,
the skin is looking more like silk and not a shadow is in sight,
then I saw a frown come on the face of the fella in the chair,
and in a garbled voice he sort of spoke with some despair.
“This bloody ball keeps rolling ‘round, and I can’t follow it,
what happen’s Mick if just by chance that I swallow it?”
Mick wiped his razor on a towel, then filled the bloke with ‘horrer’,
“Just do what all the others do - and bring it back tomorrer!”