George and the Dragon by Marriott Edgar

George and the Dragon

I’ll tell you the tale of an old country pub
As fancied itself up to date,
It had the word ” Garage” wrote on t’ stable door
And a petrol pump outside the gate.

The ” George and the Dragon” were t’ name of the pub,
And it stood in a spot wild and bleak,
Where nowt ever seemed to be passing that way
Except Carrier’s cart once a week.

The Carrier’s cart were a sturdy old Ford
And its driver were known as ” Old Joe
He had passed pub each week but he’d never been in,
It’s name even he didn’t know.

One cold winter night, about quarter to one,
He were driving home over the moor,
And had just reached the pub, when his engine stopped dead
A thing it had ne’er done before.

He lifted the bonnet and fiddled around
And gave her a bit of a crank;
When he looked at his petrol he found what were wrong,
There wasn’t a drop in the tank.

He had eight miles to go and ’twere starting to rain,
And he thought he were there for the night,
Till he saw the word ” Garage” wrote on t’ stable door;
Then he said, ” Lizzie, Lass… we’re all right.”

He went up to t’ pub and he hammered at door
Till a voice up above said ” Hello!”
It were t’ Publican’s Wife-she said,
“Now what’s to do?”, “I’ve run out of petrol,” said Joe.

She said ” Who are you? ” He said ” Carrier Joe.”
” Oh, so that’s who it is,” she replied
You’ve been passing this door now for close on ten years
And never once set foot inside.”

“A nice time of night to come knocking folks up,
She continued. “Away with your truck,
” You’d best get your petrol where you buy your beer…
” You only come here when you re stuck.”

Said Joe, “Aye, I’ll go if you’ll sell me some fuel,
“I can’t start my engine without.
“I’m willing to pay.” but she told him to go
Where he’d get his fuel for nowt.

“Coom, coom, Lass!” said Joe, conci-latory like,
“Let bygones be bygones, and when
I come round next time I’ll look in.”
She said, “Oh, Well, your petrol can wait until then.”

With these few remarks th’ old girl took in her head
And slammed winder to in his face;
He took a look round and for t’ very first time
He noticed the name of the place.

He picked up some pebbles he found in the road
And tossed them against winder pane,
And before very long lattice opened above
And out came the old girl again.

What d’ye want? ” she enquired. And ” Not you,” Joe replied,
For this treatment had fair raised his gorge
“I see George and t’ Dragon’s the name on the house,
“And I’d just like a word now with George.”

Marriott Edgar
Born: 5 October 1880, Kirkcudbright, Scotland
Nationality: English
Died: 5 May 1951, Battle, East Sussex, England

Edgar was a poet, scriptwriter, and comedian. He is best known for the sixteen monologues written for Stanley Holloway, including the ‘Albert’ series

Eljen a Magyar by Johann Strauss II

Eljen a Magyar
1869
Dance

Johann Strauss II

Johann Strauss II
Classical
Born: 25 October 1825, Vienna, Austria
Nationality: Austrian
Died: 3 June 1899, Vienna, Austria

Johann Strauss II was a composer of light music, dance music, and operettas. He was known as the Waltz King, having composed over 500 waltzes, polkas, and quadrilles, including ‘The Blue Danube’, Kaiser-Waltzer’, and ‘Tritsch-Tratsche-Polka’.

Spark the Flame

Spark the Flame
Form: Awdl Gywydd

Each lesson learned is one small spark
that sets the mark of our flame,
Now our knowledge we should share,
with no care for love or fame.
Skills that die with their master
are forever lost to all,
one passed to another’s hand
to be candid, will remain.
Let your fire of wisdom shine
as those in line want to learn
and your light will always glow
above, below, the flames burn

©JGFarmer2008

Truth of Darkness

Truth of Darkness
Form: Morya’s Double Lock Sonnet

There is no beginning without an end
A flower can’t bloom unless winter dies
And the seed awakens from dreamy sighs
And tendrils of life through the cold earth wend
For deep in the darkness life grows, not cries
As only from death can new life transcend
This universal power cannot bend
For it is truth beyond the holy lies
That pray for a revelation too late
For time and nature wish to here no more
The rantings from those born of fear and hate
Nature knows only of the ancient lore
While humans demand it all on a plate
As flowers bloom Man’s denied ever more

©JGFarmer2022

The End of Twilight

A Garret Poet

The End of Twilight
Form: Sapphic Stanza

Beyond the horizon, the sun lies fallen
and stars have yet to show in glorious light;
The night's darkest hour has come with hidden sighs
of silent vampires.

The scent of flesh stalks the land with evil minds;
malign intentions hunting innocent blood
The living dead of noble descent feeding
on a virgin's vein.

Demonic caress leaves a sorrowful soul;
to mourn a passing dream of desire's touch;
Unholy spirit with a satanic heart;
Incubi by name.

Ever youthful, immortal with godless smiles,
bring ceaseless nightmares with a cold deathly touch
Resides in everlasting Cimmerian realm;
at End of Twilight.

©JGFarmer2014

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