What's In A Name?

[Oswego John]

Today is Saturday and, as usual, kind of slow on the board. I'll try to keep this short and sweet. (no promises)

For the last day or so, there has been some banter back and forth, some of which was the comparison of my oriental gardener, named Phnom Dip Loome and Warshington (sic) State's nomination for the Sweetheart Of Sigma Chi. So what if she has the shape and weight of a full keg of beer, and has a jaw shaped much like a male salmon hellbent on spawning. But I digress, don't I. Scusa.

Apparently, this whimsey has generated doubt in the minds of some of the readers and since last night, I have received two IMs concerned with if I had been in too many scrums without a helmet. They were mostly concerned with why I had mentioned my gardeners name and, also, what's with my pen name, Sue Danim.

My humble reply to both PMers was to repeat both names, one at a time of course, three or four times rapidly.

In closing, during this wondrous season, I would like to relate to all, the memorable words of Marcel Marceau, " - - - - - "

Love and peace to all,
Sue

[John Vigor]

Well, I dunno OJ, things are getting pretty desperate on this board when we have to descend to the use of homonymns (any good dictionary will put you right) instead of good honest Cape Dory sailor talk.

So maybe we should go the whole hog, sink to the lowest of the low, and do our poetry thing again. Let's ask the clever and artistic contributors to this board for their favorite short piece of maritime poetry. (Emphasis on short.)

Like, for example:

'Twas in the tropic latitudes
While we were talking platitudes
As any sailor might
We forgot to take our longitude
Which was a grievous wrongitude
So we did not reach Hong Kongitude
'Til very late that night.

Cheers,

John V.
________________

From Vigor's Rules for Life:
23. Murphy's Flu Philosophy: "You never have the right number of pills left on the last day of the prescription."

[tartansailor]

HELP! I can not remember it all nor the author.

The Ballad Of Long John Silver

We were schooner rigged and rakish with a long and lissome hull
We sailed the pretty colors of the cross-bones and the skull

With a big black jolly rodger flapping grimly at the foe
We sailed the Spanish waters in the happy days of yore

With a big brass gun amidships like a well conducted ship
We had each a brace of pistols and a cutlass at the hip

She was boarded, she was looted, she was scuttled till she sank
And the pale survivors left us by the medium of the plank

When the dead men fouled the scuppers and the wounded filled the chains,
The deck was all splatter-dashed with other peoples brains.

there is more but that's all I can remember


Dick

[Carter Brey]

Lo! The western Sun's raw Rays do grate
Effulgent on John Vigor's noble pate
Whilst, eastward, C. Brey's high-domed, naked Tête
Bakes 'neath his Muse, Apollon Musagête.

O sailors! Here's a Paraphrase indeed:
Instead of Remonstrations to take Heed,
Let's hark to wise old Nietsche's "Mensch, gib Acht!"
When courting solar Rays aboard one's Yacht.

Oh, God. It's Winter.

[Oswego John]

Dick,

Try this address:

http://www.britishcouncil.org/learnengl ... silver.htm

O J

[Judith]

Oh, God. It's Winter.

Though Pollyanna oft I have been styled
And Winter yet does hold us in its grip,
In fact, the longest night is past. Days mild
Grow nearer, pulling sailors to the ship.
Spring's warmth creeps nigh and soon, tis plain to figger,
We'll ride the waves with vim re-newed. And Vigor.

[Warren Kaplan]

A similar poetry contest which I think the doldrums of winter depression spawned in my compromised brain, with assistance from my alter ego William;

http://www.capedory.org/board/viewtopic ... discontent

[Carter Brey]

Now that's damned good doggerel. I feel warmer already.

I hate to mention this, but I believe John pronounces his last name to rhyme with "tiger".

[tartansailor]

OJ! Thanks Much. Read that in H. S. 1951 I believe.

Dick

[Judith]

Oh, mannnn, now that is going on my resume: Author of [blahblahblah] and "damned good doggerel"!

[John Vigor]

Okay, okay, I'm out of my depth here. I haven't got five metrical feet to match Carter's pentameter and I can't write uber-super-doggerel like Judith.

I spent half an hour trying to find words that rhyme with Judith and Carter. Complete failure with Judith. Only a windy unjustifable F-word for Carter--and I wouldn't want to upset him, because if you're real nice to him he'll send a beautiful young English cellist to buy you lunch. (If you ask Carter, he'll explain.)

So I give up.

My brain says it's done its quota of thinking for 2006 and it has gone off somewhere to have a good time.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all.

John V.
_____________

From Vigor's Rules for Life:
24. Hadley's Third Rule of Clothing Shopping: "If you like it, and it fits, you can't afford it."

[Judith]

Stop that, John! You are soooo making me laugh

That's the beauty of a name like "Judith": no obvious rhymes (I had thought, briefly, of calling myself 'Orange' )

I hope you and your brain--and everyone on the CD board--have/has a wonderful restful regenerating holiday. I spoke earlier to Tiny Tim and you'll never guess what he said!! (But it DID involve "each and every one!")

[Neil Gordon]

I spent half an hour trying to find words that rhyme with ... Carter.

Barter
Darter
F*****
Garter
Martyr
Tartar

(Total elapsed time... aproximately 30 seconds)

[GLutzow]

A Ballad of Long John Silver

by: John Edward Masefield

We were schooner-rigged and rakish, with a long and lissome hull,
And we flew the pretty colours of the crossbones and the skull;
We'd a big black Jolly Roger flapping grimly at the fore,
And we sailed the Spanish Water in the happy days of yore.

We'd a long brass gun amidships, like a well-conducted ship,
We had each a brace of pistols and a cutlass at the hip;
It's a point which tells against us, and a fact to be deplored,
But we chased the goodly merchant-men and laid their ships aboard.

Then the dead men fouled the scuppers and the wounded filled the chains,
And the paint-work all was spatter dashed with other peoples brains,
She was boarded, she was looted, she was scuttled till she sank.
And the pale survivors left us by the medium of the plank.

O! then it was (while standing by the taffrail on the poop)
We could hear the drowning folk lament the absent chicken coop;
Then, having washed the blood away, we'd little else to do
Than to dance a quiet hornpipe as the old salts taught us to.

O! the fiddle on the fo'c'sle, and the slapping naked soles,
And the genial "Down the middle, Jake, and curtsey when she rolls!"
With the silver seas around us and the pale moon overhead,
And the look-out not a-looking and his pipe-bowl glowing red.

Ah! the pig-tailed, quidding pirates and the pretty pranks we played,
All have since been put a stop to by the naughty Board of Trade;
The schooners and the merry crews are laid away to rest,
A little south the sunset in the islands of the Blest.

Great poem.

[M. R. Bober]

Stop that, John! You are soooo making me laugh

That's the beauty of a name like "Judith": no obvious rhymes (I had thought, briefly, of calling myself 'Orange' )

How about a half-rhyme(pararhyme) : orange / lozenge, Judith / nudest?

Mitchell Bober
Sunny Annapolis (home of the half crazed English teachers), MD