Sunday, 20 March 2011

The Unknown Rambler

The Unknown Rambler

In some corner of a marshy field undrained,
We sought Him unknown,
Whom Earl Grey & cake had once sustained,
But no more now would puff peaceful
By His study clock,
Or ask is this a Fair Trade, dog friendly tea shop?

Cautious crept the wyrd, mist breath marsh folk,
Rough clad, tangle haired & gimble eyed,
And though we with polite query & coin plied,
They shied, for t'was no human tongue they spoke.

And where the strangest, twisted forms abound,
And spectral beasts do sniffle,
Scenting blood, or maybe just the last
Of His lemon drizzle,
The sad, unposted destiny was found,
Deep in soggy ground.

For on this lonely river side
Here did endeth that brave ramble wide;
Aught remained, not even a morsel going smelly,
Only tragedy, told by one, mud bound green welly.

Far, too far indeed, He strayed,
Beyond reach of Mortlock & Roberts' Guide,
And foolish! o'er stretched Man's mortal line,
Into that dark,
Which ever doth lurk
Beyond the thermos flask's cool down time.



  1. Awesome, just awesome

  2. Dear o0o,

    I have just spluttered my absinthe all over my smoking jacket. That is a dashed funny and accomplished piece. Yo0o are very talented!

    ~ Munro Tweeder-Harris, Esq. R.S.A.R. ~

  3. It is alas a Rambler trait to stray too far from the path and whilst this often offers us up a unique and rewarding experience I think that this post should be a salutary reminder to all of us in the learned society - that all flesh, even Ragged flesh is ultimately grass...

    Poignant stuff.... +Many Coats+

  4. This is even better than the final 'wedding' episode of the Vicar of Dibley.

  5. Give us a groat and I could dig that boot out of there if you want.

  6. Welly boots are an abomination. He who seeks to protect himself with rubber or as I call it, Devil's blubber, is like the foolish plough-hand who doth wastefully broadcast his seed to the four winds. To the carts tail says I.

    Puritan and Proud