Did I do it right?

Did I? Or did I do wrong?

I did right? Splendid!

There’s a hole in my t-shirt, dear Peter, dear Peter;

There’s a hole in my t-shirt, dear Peter, a hole!

I’ve only had it two decades, dear Peter, dear Peter,

I’ve only had it two decades, now it’s got a hole.

It says it’s forever, dear Peter, forever;

Two decades is not forever, dear Peter, no, no.

Graeme:)

https://youtu.be/GArapye1_Rg

One and one is.

Whereas,

One minus one isn’t.

Nothing multiplied

By anything

Is still nothing;

And, conversely,

Anything multiplied by nothing

Is also nothing.

“Nothing will come of nothing!” spake King Lear.

He wasn’t much of a king at the end;

But, he still knew some maths

(Although dividing one by three was the worst sum he ever tried).

A Bit Gilbert & Sullivany? (Leader of the Queen’s Navy)

Of all the world that I’ve yet to see

There are sev’ral far off places that do call to me

I long to see Venice and the Isle of Man;

Krakatoa, Peckham High Street, old Japan;

Bermondsey, Wandsworth, Epping, Crewe

Cape St. Vincent and Timbuk, too!

I am not a Solent Poet!

I shall be heard,

Wherever I am!

I have crossed the Tamar,

And Kernow is now my home

And how!

I am not a Solent Poet

But, I was.

And, I suppose,

Even when it’s really noisy,

A little part of me

Will always have

Solent’s.

“Se-ver-al Ci-vil Ser-vice sil-ver sal-vers!” she said, slowly, salaciously, seditiously.

“Several!” said Sir Cyril Sissington-Smythe, severely.

“Sì, Signore Cy-ril!” Sonia Sanchez-Sans-Sevilla, Sir Cyril’s Spanish Secretary, asserted seductively. “Se-ver-al.”

Sir Cecil sighed – it was going to be another of those exasperating Esperanto Wednesdays.

On a velocipede made for one – somewhere in England in the mid 1870s.

“Straddle the saddle

Paddle and skedaddle

Until into a staddle

Stone you do ride!”

Ouch! And all are

Cross, bar none.

The staddle-stone owner

Was none to happy;

Though, normally, a happy sort of chappy;

But, the cyclist – a loner

And, now a pain-groaner

Had naddled his grunions – he had!

He later spoke much of his choice

In buying this ‘thing’

And in such a high voice

That the glassware did ring –

And a Champagne flute broke

From the strain.

Our Velocipedist did the Anglo-Saxon language enlist

To describe how he felt when he’d landed;

The ladies did blush

The Gentlemen present said “Hush!”

And a ‘scallywag type’ he was branded.

The Velocipede of this injured chap’s mishap,

Was bartered for scrap;

And was never to set sail again;

For the man with high voice

Waited for Messrs. Rolls and Royce

To invent something that was not quite such a pain.

I have seen the dancing people,

They love to move before the fire;

And when the flames are roaring bright,

Then the people dance with much desire;

And when the flames die down and fade,

The dancing people

To rest are laid.