A wee poem for the Feast of St Michael & All Angels
Mind those prickles, can be fickle.
Ease your hand in, come out slow.
Grasping just one precious berry
Black as night and ripe to go.
Berry dark and very shiny
Spill your secret, we must know
What's the legend that surrounds you?
Tell the tale from long ago.
On the feast day of St Michael
Just as mass was being read
Then the Devil fell from heaven,
Landed in a bramble bed.
How they pricked him, how he cursed them,
Called them names and scorched them black.
After that he pissed upon them
Swore once more and turned his back.
Michaelmas falls late September,
Eat them till that day arrives.
After that, please do remember,
Devil's piss may shorten lives!
Bon appetit! Where's the custard, easy on the urine.
For all the smart arses amongst you, I am well aware
that Michaelmas falls on the 29th and that I am just a
tad early with this post but there is a very good reason
Over the next couple of days I shall be changing address
for the fourth time this year and it looks likely that I shall be
without access to the internet for a while until my new
connection is installed.
|Home at last!|
All year I've felt a bit like a greyhound awaiting adoption
and hopefully, like all of them, I've finally managed to
find my "forever home" although no one ever knows what's
just around the corner which is what makes life
so exciting and a bit scarey at times. Bring it on!
There will now be a short .....
|Back soon - don't go away!|