XPost: alt.poetry.doggerel
From: nemo@naughtylass.wet
Harlan Osier wrote in message
news:89ec59b9.0407111453.4a91d2b4@posting.google.com...
> Nobody likes it.
Coillons!! I like it! And in Middle English too!
Firstly, you've got to finish your chores, sir!
And now. . . The Prologue.
(Don't look so froward, Hankie!)
Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote
The droghte of Marche hathe perced to the rote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour :
Whan Zephiris with his sweete breeth
Inspired hathe in every holt and heeth
That tendre croppes, and yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe course y-ronne,
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open ye,
(So proketh hem nature in hir corages) :
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages . . .
So there, folks, we have the origins of the Highly Steamed Goon Show!!
And RUDE poetry certainly ain't rubbish - and the way the whole thing
finishes is utterly hilarious!
I was reading it on the Tube (London Underground) when I got to the end of
it and I nearly fell off the seat laughing - much to the puzzlement of the
other passengers.
Derk was the night as pich, or as the cole,
And at the window out she putte hir hole,
And Absilon, him fil no bet he wers,
But with his mouth he kiste hir naked ers
Ful savourly, er he was war of this,
Aback he sterte and thought it was amis,
For well he wist a womman hath no berd,
He felte a thing al rough and long y-herd
And seyde, 'fy, allas! what have I do?'
'Tehee,' quod she and clapte the window to;
And Absilon goth forth a sory pas.
'A berd! A berd!' quod hende Nicholas,
'By Goddes corpus, this goth faire and weel!'
This sely Abselon herde every deel,
And on his lippe he gan for anger byte;
And to him-self he seyde, 'I shal thee quite!'
Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes
With dust, with sond, with straw, with clooth, with chippes. . . . . .
Chaucer: The Miller's Tale
--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)
|
