How's your day?

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Change of subject....

Happy Emerald Anniversary, Mary 1947 !!


Once knew a girl called Mary,

Who's voice was like a fairy,

A friend of mine

For whom I'd pine,

But now I'm getting dreary.

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Thanks  Beekay for your poems,


Here's one that my dad used to say,


Mary had a little  lamb

It had a sooty foot 

and! in-to Marys bed and jam

it put it's sooty foot.



Piggy on the railway

picking up stone's

down came an engine 

and broke piggies bones

are !! said "Piggy thats not fair"

are! said the engine "

"I don't Care"


Don't give up the day job.

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here in Nottstalgia seldom read.

The poets who wrIte the odes on here

should find it, so they can make clear

their thoughts on there and all can say

”Better on here than in ‘How’s your day”


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Phil and I, were walking by,

To look into his field, 

We want to know,

What he could grow,

And what the crop would yield.


I knew a pal called Ben,

Not seen since I were ten,

We went to school

And then played pool,

But only now and then.

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How's my day?

I dare not say!

Lest for my sins I'm sent away,

To Poet's Corner,

Be that where it may,

To write obscurely, far away,

It's not just Politics that's banished,

It now seems verse must also vanish!

So, no more will I post my rhymes,

In 'How's Your Day'..

Oh! what dark times..


:wacko::rulez: :laugh:


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I went to visit Beekay

It was a lengthy trip

But as he lives close by the sea

We went and had a dip.

He showed his painted milk churns

His artistry displayed.

I ask him where he got them

He said he knew a maid.


She took them from the dairy

Whilst farmer wasn’t looking

And offered them to BK


Make up the rest yourselves!





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The poets of Nottstalgia are
A rare and special breed.
Opinions differ widely as to
What folks like to read.


For instance, a la Chulla, there are
Those who hate blank verse.
If it doesn't rhyme, it's a waste of time.
Needs smothering at birth. :wacko:


Philmayfield leans t'ward humour whilst
Beekay is more prosaic.
High-flown hyperbole's Margie's choice, though
Brew's no  time to pay it. :shout:


For Ben, a list of female names is
All the art requires.
As in each one, that son of a gun relives
His past desires!  ;)


When Tennyson remembers Maud, it's
In his garden, fair.
To Ben, she's rather different: big and...!!!!
Think we'll leave it there!  :blink:


In short, there's no accounting for
Our taste in odes and rhymes,
Save that Chulla will be muttering,
"They're not as good as mine!"  :Shock:

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