laugh at life with gillie

Twitter / @thegrimbarian    gilliejohn @hotmail.co.uk   facebook john gill

Leave your, Game Boy,  PC, and Wii,  come with me, away from all modern triviality. Without plastic beams and plastic brass; and all night clubs with writhing mass.  Where birdsong is top of the charts and creatures have the starring parts. Hedgerow, stream, meadow and tree, make up the stage scenery. The curtain rises on part one  SPRING. Music arrives on feathered wing. Robin Hedge-sparrow, thrush, dipper, wren, are trilling in hedgerow, wood and glen. Skylarks liquid melody flows from high; crystal clear tune from clear blue sky. yellow hammer flutters among the trees, singing, 'little bit of bred and no - cheese. Squirrels and dormice in acrobatic acts, with death defying leaps, they land intact. In athletic games hares run and jump. Toe to toe,  they grunt, hiss and thump. The dipper curtsies and bobs enthusiastically. What a great show; and its all for free. The scenery changes with a more splendid hue....

It was all peace and quiet in the farmyard, until a mischievous wizard passed by. He waved his wand at the chickens, then at the pigs in their sty. The farmer yelled, 'Hey! What you doing?' He answered, 'Oh just having fun.' And ran quickly around the farmyard, muttering spells on the run. He laughed as he stood in the gateway. But the farmer could not see the joke. He ran forward to catch hold of the wizard, who vanished in a puff of smoke. Now the farmer got very frightened and rushed home to tell his wife, of the scene that he had just witnessed the likes of which he'd not seen in his life. They went back to look at the farmyard; to see what damage had been done' by that wizard who had been there, saying he was just having fun. The pigs were all in the pigsty; rooting around in the muck. But instead of grunting like pigs normally do, they looked up and started to cluck. The sheep were quacking in the sheep-pen,the ducks were mooing in th...

I got drunk one night, staggered towards my home, entered a room. And shouted,  'Where are you wife! What you doing buying all these tacky trinkets? Where's all our nice ornaments?' The woman next door yelled, 'Get out of my house!'  :0\

Cocker Doodle saw the poodle chase the cat round the farm. Cocker Doodle watched the poodle from his perch where he'd come to no harm.

Humpty, Humpty Horace, the camel from Abber Dabber Doo, was standing one day at an oasis, having a leisurely chew, when a giant of a gnat came and bit him; causing poor Horace such pain, that he shot off across the desert, and swore he'd never go there again. Poor Humpty, Humpty Horace; no wonder he's taken the hump, Not only has he got two humps on his back, he also has a painful lump.

A mangy moggie called Micky Mog would fight with anything; even a dog. A great big dog, who they called Big Pat never did like that mangy cat. So she waited in ambush behind a log, thinking to herself, 'I'm a clever dog.' But Micky did what most cats do, he jumped on a log to get a good view. He spotted Pat crouched there, having a titter, jumped  on her back stuck his claws in and bit her. The pain and shock put Pat to flight; she ran and ran until out of sight. Micky hung on all the way, Shouting things like, Yahoo, yee, hoolay!" I don't know what happened after that, because there's been no sighting of dog nor cat.

Dick was an highwayman on the road to York. He clip clopped along on his trusty horse. Clip-clop clippity-clop, As a Highwayman, Dick was a complete flop. His horse couldn't outrun the Highway Cop. :0\    

Hey yo old git's foller me  tap our plates to new poetry. Stop yo winging rap aint bad, Follow me, the rap granddad. wear your caps; beanies too; If your shy a hood'll do. Tap, tap, tap it's rap Put over the top yo point of view, like Keats and Wordsworth; Tennyson too. Older poets then me or you Musics fast catchy- few! tap those feet hear t words, don't dismiss like verbal turds. Tap, tap to the rap. Not boring ranting crap it's new poetry ITS RAP! Iceberg cool, cool as ice, all the rage raging on the new age. tap, tap to the rap. Hip hop Is that a cop?

We had a cockerel in our yard, he used to crow a lot. Now he does not crow at all; he's in a cooking pot. Ding dong bell pussies in the well, who put him in? I'm not gonna to tell. I told the doctor that I had a whistling in my ears, he said, 'When did you first notice it?'  I said, 'When my dog kept on coming back to me.' I also told him that my ears were painful.  He said, 'Is the pain intense?'   I said, 'Yes; In tents, In the house, outside, everywhere.' He said, 'I think your deaf.' I said, 'Why do I look like Jeff?' They syringed my ears and a pea flew out, so the whistling stopped.   a quarry owner was struggling to make a living cos his business was on the rocks.                      When is a moth a cat? When it is a tiger moth There are no flies on the Welsh. Only dragon fl...

We had a cockerel in our yard, he used to crow a lot. Now he does not crow at all; he's in a cooking pot. Ding dong bell pussies in the well, who put him in? I'm not gonna to tell. a quarry owner was struggling to make a living cos his business was on the rocks.                      When is a moth a cat? When it is a tiger moth There are no flies on the Welsh. Only dragon flies. Hey, this government are outlawing the term Pensioner, they are phasing pensions out. Your next title (after worker) will be "The deceased"  I have decided to hang my dogs I.D. tag on the base of his tail to stop other dogs sniffing his bum. I said to my Mrs, "Don't let me be a cabbage. I would rather be a couch potato like all the other brain dead people." Posh bloke from double barrel named village visited Northern Industrial Town "What a Shit-hole!" He said. Well he was just passing through! Hey, I don't kno...

  Rupert was an aspiring poet, though the critics didn't know it. He began to rave and tear his hair out, his lips were formed in a permanent pout. He wasn't original. In time he was sectioned, he'd gone out of his mind, Well, he'd never been in it, I think you will find. He now sits in his cell dreaming up lots of verse Of silvery moons and a nocturnal hearse. frittering lights and a madman's curse. He was getting original. In time he was allowed to use sharp pens, so he wrote of ghostly shapes crossing fog shrouded fens. The critics read his work and now want to know it. Rupert's now famous; a celebrated Mad Poet. Now he's original.