WRCU2
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« Reply #2 on: March 22, 2008, 03:16:47 am » |
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Encouraging words Don, strong silent type-2 EH? Sorry this reply took so long, we must always be careful with the encourageable, NO? In this exercise, not unlike young Gerald McGrew who was heralding odd creatures unto his zoo, I went to Hamilton's specthread to pay my respects with others, wailing over the long-winded metrics of spraying some of Hamilton's public and private woodlots for Gypsy moth, caterpillars and eggs. It is there I was calm fronted by Jonny Velvet.
I left a second comment, harmonizing to Jonny's velvet chord. I then reread and herein restate, what McGrew's moldy mist might, dew in the wild wood's great.
"Most beasts are quite friendly, but still, in some lands Some beasts are too dangerous to catch with bare hands. For those that are ugly and vicious and mean I'll build a Bad-Animal-Catching-Machine. It's rather expensive to build such a kit, But with it a hunter can never get bit." - The Good Doctor
So with all the information presented in the specthread by all the different contributors, for and against spraying, I stitched together my own lame attempt to amuse children and bemuse their adult readers at the same time, in the good doctors' style, with this ridiculous redbook-like inspiratorial <clearing throat> diatribe!!.
In the town of Chum-Hummerville a Gypsy moth laid an egg In this myth laid her egg on an old barn door peg Then along came a farmer to do his daze work He hung his torn jacket on the peg with a jerk The _egg _ough the peg fell down into his pocket The farmer did not notice it flew just like a rocket
But on its way down, egg spinning end spun The shell of its case came completely undone A red thread of silk and at the end of the thing Was a worm, not an egg, dressed in silk and soft string The worm yawned and winked at the sky and then slumped Then he jumped and he stumped like his heart was all pumped He leaped round the jacket where the torn fibers chumped Then he spinned and he spun and he spit out some thread He sewed up the holes with this thread as he sped Then on to the next one two, until then would bee said, He'd mend the whole coat, but now it was all red.
The farmer by now was out milking his pigs Then later he pickled three pecks of raw figs By the time he returned to the old barn door peg Where the Gypsy Ma-Moth had first laid her egg The Jacket he wore at the crack of the dawn Which he'd hung there heed sworn, was now suddenly gown Hung they're instead weird a red silky thing And like the small worm's it was hemmed in with soft string.
Our farmer it seems did not like this one bit He screamed to the sky "Whoo did this owl-foul knit!? My coat is all fixed butt, that red's to darned snarry It's silky and soft and I'll look like I'm to bloody marry! Come out hear you scoundrel who darned my's worn cowt Come out or I'll go get my Jersey Rex Horned Gowt She'll ram you and buck you and make your hems blowt Until you resume this hideous gloat that you wrote That jacket you mended was all tattled and torn Eyes liked it that way, all forfeit and forlorn."
Now the worm had jumped back to the pocket when finished Its mission, it seams, have now been greatly diminished What the farmer had said had gave him bad felt, SEW... He pumped and he jumped and he lumped and he clumped He ripped and he tore at that redcoat to restore And when he was done the farmer declared, "Yore a pest and this thing that you dared Will not go unprunished!" as he stared and he glared
The farmer then plucked up some old tin can sprayers And he sprayed on the worm with it layers and layers Screaming "Dye ewe fowl bug, weave no need of your kindness I'll fix mine owned coat, you really are quite known mindless!"
The worm grumbled and spluttered and eventually dyed But one thing more happened before it went dead Its head split wide open and out taped red thread Miles and miles of incalculable length It covered the farmer and strapped all his strength Silky with soft strings he'd become in the end All covered in redress like Christmas times friend.
The spray in May might fall mainly on its prey But who can someday say, nay, none else got in ITS way?
All in favor of eradicating the planted silk worms and their Gypsy Mother Moth, say aye.
All Opposed and to a call for yolks to materialize Genuine HamSpun Gypsy Silk Fabric, within a new line of "MacBrandished Cloaks by Revolution Wear Org" say nay; Then promptly begin the many-hands-free-in-Hamilton collection campaign. I'd suggest calling the newly developed fiber "Hamstring" though, unless you aren't truly serious about ITS being so. This spinner could be a winner.
Like the worm, I suSpec this thread is near dead too. Perhaps we'll move onward toward Dofasco ArecelorMittal, unions and the earth's upcoming 60 minutes?
"I'll catch 'em in caves and I'll catch 'em in brooks, I'll catch 'em in crannies, I'll catch 'em in nooks That you don't read about in geography books.
I'll catch 'em in countries that no one can spell Like the country of Motta-fa-Potta-fa-Pell. In a country like that, if a hunter is clever, He'll hunt up some beasts that you never saw ever!" - The Good Doctor
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