New "Hat/Cattle" Chatter
Sergeant Friday's a cop, an abrupt one full stop.
Hear him gripe: "Just the facts, ma'am; no tattle!"
Though her atria's chill'd, she's prepared to be thrill'd
to her cor: She's all heart (though no cockles).
With Rice Krispies I find I like only one kind.
Forget Pop: I'm all Snap and no Crackle.
He brings signs to each march and his slogans are arch,
never dull. He's all that, but no catalyst.
She'll not wriggle one hair, much less fly through the air.
She's immobile: all halt and no cartwheel.
Donald's evil's like cancer. For Don, love's no answer,
That's Drumpf: he's all hate and no cuddle.
A Bell Witch/Quay blend,* she's for sure no one's friend.
Fire burn: she's all haunt and no Casper.
* The Bell Witch haunts an area in Tennessee; Minnie Quay
is a legendary ghost spooking Michigan. "Fire burn..." is part
of a couplet chanted by the Weird Sisters in Shakespeare's
Macbeth.
If Dad laughs at all, his laugh's big, never small.
That's our Dad: he's all "HA!" and no chortle.
That's our Dad: he's all "HA!" and no chortle.
She's, when tough love's requir'd, ne'er in pull'd punches mired.
Best to duck: she's all hit and no coddle.
His applause is sedate. Meet Monsieur Understate.
In the end, he's all hint and no catcall.
More Runcibl'd Spooners
Ernest's famous six-word story.
Must four small "cetes" cede hirsute glory...?*
For sale: baby shoes, never worn / Four whale babies soon (Never!) shorn.
* In the sense of 1 Corinthians 11:15 "If a woman have hair it is a glory to her."
Attacking those "giants" keeps Don in fine fettle.
He fades before factories coated in metal.
Tilting at windmills / Wilting at tinn'd mills
Where Drumpf dreams up his latest fraud.
The adult stage of household god.
Mar-a-lago / Lar imago
