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So I've been thinking this Winter could do with a good narrative poem for the old lads at Salythingummytron to tell round the fire whilst they're keeping warm...so here it is! So without further babbling an' carrying on an' allsuch rubbish, I present tonight's star, Alec Misthyndyne Futhringshaw!
It was morn, and all was well, in Spring as you'd suppose That wand'ring laddie buck Alec continued t'wards his home. He shook both paws, wound both ears and scratched his achy back And gath'ring his affects he hitched up his old haversack. On o'er the dales he roamed 'til a breather he required 'Gainst an oak tree lean'd and said, "Corks, I'm rather tired!" So he sat down once more to rest, reached inside his pack Brought up candied fruit, and said "Alec,…
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- Hello chaps, chapesses and laddie bucks! Most of you know I'm less of the writer type an' more o' the jolly old song-writer type, if that flippin' well makes any blinkin' sense, wot! Well, here's a few of my songs, most of 'em Long Patrol ballads, plus a few tuneless scripts to boot, as they come to my bally old brain. This is a place for me to keep all of my songs so anyway if you're passing through, enjoy!
March of the Fifty-Third Foot (A old border hare Patroller's reminiscences composed into a ballad) (fast) O the jolly ald Fifty-Third Foot, Have thaer grand ald place in history; An' now patrollin', always forward, They live again in mah memory. The wither was cold an' bittah, On that ill-fated Wintah's day; When a-shoutin' Bluid, Death an' Vine…
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