Sunday, 14 June 2009

A-Z Killing Spree - Verses A-D

Well, I managed to survive the wedding. No serial killers - my tights, false nails AND I all survived unscathed - unless you count the mental trauma of the embarrassing uncle dancing you always get at weddings - you know - when they play Sweet Caroline and Uncle Bert gets up on the dance floor with his tie around his head, his shirt untucked and stuck to his back, and insists on playing air guitar. So I'm just back home and trying to catch up.

I shall resume normal service tomorrow, but in the meantime, because I'm a lazy moo, here are the first 4 verses of a very silly poem I wrote a while back (and which you may already have seen if you know me). I'm off on holiday later on this week so I thought if I can work out the technology I shall do some posts in advance to post while I'm away. The rest of the verses will be some of them (sorry), but I'll try and do some real stuff - hopefully some more entries in the alphabet of Scottish authors (especially for Bernadette, who I know is looking for more recommendations :o) ).

So, in the meantime, here we go. An A-Z Killing Spree - verses A to D

A is for Alfie, whose life was Abridged,
When pickled in Aspic and stuffed in the fridge.
Slain by the Accountant at his old Alma Mater,
And served up with Asparagus and a potater.
The Accountant - poor Al - had a motive Abstruse
Four years of hideous verbal Abuse,
From Alfie, whose tongue was as sharp as an Adder
And just made timid Al slowly madder and madder.

B brings us on to the tale of poor Bertie,
Brained by a Billiard Ball before he was 30.
At a Bed and Breakfast in Bath, where he paid with his life
For an afternoon's Bonk with a Baronet's wife.

C is for Curtis, whose end was quite silly,
Hung from a Cable Car in the mountains of Chile.
He Courted a most Captivating Calypsoing diva,
And in her had sparked a murderous fever,
When he Callously Chucked her and went out with her mother,
Her Cousin, her grandma, her aunt... and her brother.

D is for Derek, who should have known not to Dally
With Delphine, a Delicious Danceuse from the ballet.
To Dance was this Damsel's only Delight,
She Danced in the Day and she Danced in the night.
She Danced in her Dreams when one of her feet,
Gave Derek a kick in the Nutcracker Suite.
He jumped from the bed in need of pain medication,
Crashed through the window and died of Defenstration.

I'm so sorry...

6 comments:

  1. Oh, so you are a poet!

    So am I ;)
    I wrote a fantastic something-or-other about Inspector Wexford´s sidekick, Michael Burden in April. Tried to copy the link, but it didn´t work. If you should like to see my "Hiawathan scansion" (Peter Rozovsky´s words), you can find it under the label "Michael Burden".

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  2. That's great Dorte! And no, *I* am not a poet, but YOU are :o)

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  4. American Zoe, whose name starts with Z,
    Thought so complacently, "They won't catch me."
    But a killer from England – his name starts with Z –
    Took out a zip gun and blew off her head.
    ==============
    Detectives Beyond Borders
    "Because Murder Is More Fun Away From Home"
    http://detectivesbeyondborders.blogspot.com/

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  5. LOL Peter.

    Lymaree - Q was a lot of fun to do...but not as much fun as X... :o)

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