Repose with two fishfingers up his Nose – Sharing a favourite poem.

The Word of the Day is REPOSE:

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2021/03/16/repose/

And I was reminded of a favourite poem that I heard many years ago. It was contained in a book called Sister Madge’s Book of Nuns by Doug MacLeod which was full of funny poems. This one contains the line: And there he lay in cold repose
With two fish fingers up his nose.

SISTER STEPHANIE AND THE GANG – DOUG MACLEOD

The supermarket proved to be
A trial for Sister Stephanie.
“Oh rats!” she grumbled to herself,
“The birdseed’s on the highest shelf
Unless I gain some extra height
My Charlie won’t get fed tonight.”
The manager who lingered near
Said, “Having trouble, sister dear?
Out shelves are much too high, you say?
Well I see it a different way.
The problem is that you’re much too small!
A tiny speck, a Ping-Pong ball!
A monkey would be bigger than you
And rather better looking too.”


Sister Stephanie left the store
But came back with a mighty roar
The windows smashed, alarm bells range,
The nuns had formed a bikie gang.
The gang was fierce, the gang was mad
The gang was old and leather-clad
With chains and crosses, clubs and spikes
The nuns revved up their superbikes.
Then up and down the lanes they sped
With Sister Stephanie up ahead
“Yippee!” she cried, as piles of tins
Were scattered just like bowling pins.
They crushed the nuts, they blew away
The continental food display,
They squashed the squash, they split the peas,
They toppled all the toiletries.
The manager who’d been so rude
Was knocked into the frozen food
And there he lay in cold repose
With two fish fingers up his nose.


The bikies rumbled home to tea
Except for Sister Stephanie
Who searched the smoking battleground
Until a pack of seed she found.
She paid the manager and smiled,
“I’m sorry that the girls ran wild
But really, you should not poke fun
At poor defenceless nuns, my son.”


Then off she roared upon her Harley
Home to feed her vulture, Charlie.

Let the Festivities begin (and end) – A Festive poem

unlighted red advent candles on table beside green gift boxes

 

Christmas comes but once a year,

Filled with presents and festive cheer.

but the run-up is filled with stress and fear,

Although I’m happy, once it’s here.

 

I’m glad that it’s only an annual event,

for once all the foods eaten and presents sent,

I’m sick of Chocolate and my energy spent,

when it’s over and gone, I’m relieved it went.

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 15th December 2019

 

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/12/14/festive/

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