Wednesday, 2 December 2009

spoonerism poem

well, I’ve been asking around a lot
and I think this next poem is a genuine first
because this is entirely composed of what we in britain call spoonerisms
now not everyone seems to have the word spoonerism
so a spoonerism is when you swap around the first letters of words so
soggy and bad becomes boggy and sad
and it would seem that no-one has ever composed a poem entirely from spoonerised rhyming couplets before
and well, that might seem a pretty contrived form of originality but lets face it
the world is an old place and maybe you have to be pretty contrived to be original within it
So this is the desultory tale of two young men from very different backgrounds who both lose a lot of money on the horses and then get very drunk in order to cope. They then attempt to get friendly with some young ladies but it all goes pearshaped and descends into violence and they end up watching pornography all night
so this is a lager saga
and if you want to know what a lager saga is, it’s a saga of lager
[and a chinless wonder is a british phrase for a wimpy posh boy
prince charles when he was younger would have ben your quintessential chinless wonder]
so this is

the chinless wonder
winless, chundered
and met the lad boozer
bad loser
who hocks blouses
to blocks of houses
but waved his pay
and paved the way
to bubbling his debts
by doubling his bets
but after much bad luck
the lad buck
he thought, pheww, what’ll bite?
I know, a few bottles of white
so after a lot of that
not a gay lot
they got
in a black cab
to blab cack
me father, right
he’d rather fight
but faking funny money
is a funny way of making money
but after that laughter at
his dumb and mad
mum and dad
then they a-went away
to whinge and binge
and walk and talk
and gabber and blab
and blabber and gab
and went past a sign which read
Back Open For
Tastings And Parties
so they went in for
pastings and tarties
be freer
free beer
so, amongst the movers and shakers
the shovers and makers
the chewed up and spat out
the spewed up and shat out
for the boozer he oozed breezily
and winless?
he bruised easily
for he had a dream upon a
prima donna
and went for the pretty girl
who looked slightly nutty
while the boozer he went for
the gritty pearl
who he said was nightly slutty
skinny Myrtle
in her mini-skirt’ll
get you going
so, to winless he says, you go get in
but slightly nutty
was young with tears
though possessed of the
tongue of years
was wiredly tired
of the gnawed bones
of the bored knowns
and now winless, he was a wileless guy
asking a guileless why?
but she says,
I dread to think
what I’ve been fed to drink and
I always bite the hand that feeds me
so rejuffed and bilted
and a shit battered
winless he gets on the yellow bar and
bellows YAAAA
and I will fight the band that heeds me
which as an idea was both bum and mad
like saying I’m’ere I beer I’m dum and I’m baaad
and so
cos too little thinking and too many drugs
meant too much drinking and too many thugs
a tragic mix of magic tricks
who set out to destroy the best
of our distressed boy
but the lad boozer was fick on his queet
and knast with his fuckles
till wiinless ‘e gets low
so the boozer he says, ere, lets go
resist and you’re done
so they desist and run
its no fun to ruck
so they run like …
just another glitch in our
ill-starred story
stitched right through with
a lack of glory
and so they sit there
puffing till morn
sat in front of some
muffing porn

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