2001-08-06 - 22:52 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

The Play Pen

R&R time for me tonight. Been playing with a little doggerel or its pups - whatever.

Been thinking about that scurrilous Celt.

MURPHY

Murphy ? What gives him the right to have a law ?

Who does he think he is ?

With a tense face and clenched jaw ?

Murphy that most wretched soul,

Who our affairs does tangle,

He's a politician and trouble his goal,

Whose influence gained his law?

Not written but etched in fire,

Can't find a flaw,

Cripes a law that does not expire,

Not bad enough,

Are the little corollaries and stuff,

which pitch their tents,

Assuring us of life,

Troubled by mechanical and so rife,

With troubles botanical,

Cutting like a knife.

Bringing fears,

My dears,

And tears,

Blimey, he leers,

Saying, "Its a rough job,

Old slob,

But someone one has to do it.

I'll get around to it.

And a mess does he lob,

A means to compare fun to being MURPHIED.

XXXXXXXOOOOEE EEEXXXXXXX

Whether or not I poke fun at the old guy, my feet will stumble and fumble anyhow, so I laugh

XXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX Him ?

The dorky one ?

Oh, he drowned.

How come ?

The fool,

How dumb,

Slipped and fell,

Into the gene pool.

XXXXXXXXXEEEEEEEEXXXXXXX

An old one from my Jr. High School days

Rooty toot toot, rooty toot toot,

We're the boys from the Institute,

We don't smoke and we don't chew and don't go with the girls that do !

Our bunch won the Bible.

XXXXXXXXE EEEEEXXXXXXXXXX

And then as the sun slowly sinks in the west, I turn my right index finger horizontal, place it between my lips and loudly sounding off, flip my finger up and down having fun in my Play Pen . . . . .

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