Saturday, May 6, 2023
EN LENGUA ROMANCE EN ANTIMODERNISM Y DE MIS CAMINACIONES: Urban Camper · New blog on the kid: Candace Lacks Candour, as in Fairness · Assorted retorts from yahoo boards and elsewhere: Trump's Comeout as a Commie · Who's Abusing? · Other Video Where I Comment on SSPX Getting too Close to Islam Some Places · Allie Beth Stuckey Too · In Answer to Tim Alberta
It's the second half of a cold, cold night
It's only thirty Fahrenheit
The wind makes sure the cold will bite
The sleeping bag is torn.
How warm it was just yesterday
With sunshine and a cup of tay
But good things are not made to stay
For men since Adam born!
The sleeping bag, I'll fix again
To sew it is within my ken
Tomorrow I'll nest like dove or wren
But not this night or morn.
I turn to the left, I turn to the right
The sleeping bag, I just can't get it tight.
I'll give even Goth kids such a fright
that "hung over?" they will scorn!
I take my bed and take a walk
I eagerly look around like a hawk
If I find one open, I might have to talk
to people who frown or warn.
An hour's sleep, high up in a stair
Refreshes my body like a breath of air
Except a leg cramped in despair
(but that's no cause to mourn).
However, good things will not last
A lodger wanted to get past
and said I should get leaving fast
and gave a bag of quorn.
It seems that some Amalekite,
some Haman, wants to end this plight
by pushing to camps with white-coat might
where families are torn.