Curious Spuriosities

Nashville, TN : Got Those Doggone Long-Gone Lonesome Country Blues

Oh you purrrrty Nashville gal in the honky-tonk saloon,
I whirled you round the dancefloor in my arms.
It might have been the whiskey or that big ol' southern moon
Or your sparkling eyes and sweet ol' country charms.

The one thing I remember as you sidled nice an' close,
And whispered full of promise in my ear:
"I'm not lookin' for to wed y'all, but I'd really like to bed y'all.
Just say the word an' we'll both mosey out of here."

Well I can't recall a nightcap or a moonlight serenade.
There was a tangle in the honeysuckle vine,
And a frolic down the hallway to your chamber waiting there
And I do recall a folkdance most supine.

And the next thing I remember it was right before the dawn
As an angry voice was screamin' down the line
"If y'all wanna know what's good fer y'all, ya lousy Aussie hound,
Y'll catch the next goddamn Greyhound outta town!"

Well, they say that there's no fury like a woman scorned, fo' sho'.
But let me tell you, there's another one, for mine:
That's a redneck with a gunrack and cheatin' bitch on heat.
So I hightailed off towards the county line.

Originally uploaded by baabuzz.

So now I got those doggone, long-gone, lonesome country blues,
Ain't no use for frettin' or for cryin'
An' I've traded in the Queen of Hearts for a pack of Marlboro Reds
And the dust along ol' Highway 49.

Another Limerick? Put a Cork in it!

Anyone who has shared a beverage with me will attest to my aggravating proclivity to ruin the conversation with a slurred and inappropriately ribald limerick... or 38.

Here's one I tossed off recently:

There was a young man from Limerick,
Who couldn’t make anything rhyme.
An embarrassed silence
Accompanied every attempt.
So he took to writing prose instead.

And here is my all-time favourite:

There was a young girl from Peru
Whose limerick ends at line two.

And in response to Cindy's challenge (see comments below):

There was a young wag from Toowoomba,
Strained a buttock while learning the rhumba
His partner so deft,
Grabbed his cleft with her left
And relieved the sore cheek with calumba.

...and these, I believe, are the only words (though borrowed from Spanish and Makhuwa/ Portuguese), when pronounced correctly, that will rhyme with the name my home town.

Further reflections on Ogden Nash

Such quirky pith
dispensed forthwith

It’s not that I didn’t like Vietnam, but...

Hanoi annoys.
That ceaseless, grating, honking noise,
Those pesky moto-riding boys.

No dogs, no cats, just bugs and rats
And Ha Long swallows people’s hats.
The driving rain and freezing mist.
Stay cabin bound: play cards, get pissed.
So long, and fare thee well, Ha Long.

And Hue, they say, takes just one day,
Go see the sites, then on your way!
The Citadel? A bombed out shell.

See Vietnam by rail: derail, delay,
Overpay and then waylay,
Stationary at every station:
Not the best way to see the nation.

For much less fuss, go take a bus.
Like every other backpacker does.

Hoi An has sea and sun and sand:
An agèd city, proud and grand.
But don’t get burnt instead of tanned.

Nha Trang, got so badly stung.
My credit rating's dropped a rung.
Or two.

Ho Chi Minh, that endless din,
Rocked and rolled and robbed again.
With sour smiles and cheery frowns,
Like friendly fiends and laughless clowns,
And every scam that’s going down.

All along the Mekong delta,
Tour groups running helter-skelter.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt a
Greater need to seek the shelter
Of Cambodia.

Ode to a Ghanaian Hat

Oh hat of straw, my once-crowned head
Though rough, thee oft annointed.
Thou sheltered me and gave me style,
When weather disappointed.

"Old Faithful" in action

Thou went with me where'er I'd go,
Thy faith was ever tested.
Through jungle's steam or Arctic floe,
My hair went unmolested.

For ten long years, my travel mate
Though thieves and pelting rain,
On occasion did us separate,
A reflexed grab, or diving lunge would bring thee home again.

And on this year-long, world-wide stroll,
I had such plans for thee:
The Halls of Montezuma, gold!
And the shores of Tripoli!

The Yangtze! Mekong! Amazon!
The Danube, waltzing blue.
Sierras, Andes and so on.
I'd stick to you like glue.

Alas, one morn in Ha Long Bay,
By dint of my stupidity,
I went my way and left thee there
To float in perpetuity.

After mourning period deeméd apt,
I purchased, straw and conical,
A brand new hat in old Hoi An,
Quite ludicrous and comical.

It sits quite snug upon my head
As worn by Annam's* lady.
It keeps my nose from going red.
Pretty gay, but Gad, it's shady!

Now if only I could find a rice paddy

It'll ne'er replace thee, thatchéd chum.
And e'er I'll think of thee:
Adrift at tide's and typhoon's whim
On that South China Sea.

* As Vietnam was once known