| || gulch, knelt, petite, beware, well-being there.
Image from the Internet.
The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are welcomed!
Do not explicitly reveal any of the actual answer words until after closing time, but embedding them surreptitiously in comment sentences is encouraged.
11 comments:
Well, I was down at Dry Gulch Flats, just moseying around,
When from an arroyo, I heard a sobbing sound.
I turned my horse to investigate, and in due time found
A petite but ugly gnome, a-lying on the ground.
I dismounted and knelt by him, to offer any aid.
He said he thanked me kindly, but was mostly in a rage.
He said he was a leprechaun, just visitin' the West
When he had been bushwhacked, and just left bereft.
They'd taken his pot o' gold, and his pony, too.
Now they'd best beware of what he planned to do.
The gold was fairy gold, it would evaporate by moonlight.
His pony would return, he had magicked it aright.
It was his iron cauldron that got him boiling mad!
It was made of Celtic iron, the best that could be had!
Iron can't be magicked, its well-being was his care,
He'd laid an Irish curse on the thieves who'd left him there!
Nice surprise to see Owen's tale of the traveling leprechaun. Looking forward to the sequel.
FLN, back when the likes of Wilbur and Swisher were occupying the Coach's bench there were no 3 pt shots.
WC
Ps, over in CC-land I made a comment re. "Cherry Garcia" vis a vis a pun. I should have added that the CG is a "play on words" but not exactly a pun. The latter is a type of the former.
I've been trying to think of an example of a true pun what would fit a xword clue size.
It's good to see Owen leading us off today--and with a stylish breeze o' Celtic fun.
I think that's my cue for a day of rest. It's easy for this game to become obsessive unless we make ourselves take regular breaks.
FLN, Wilbur ~ Sorry, but I apologized in advance for taking "liberties."
Maybe there were no 3-pointers in bench-warming Wilbur's game, but there certainly were in booty-fried "Wilb"'s world.
If you don't endorse how I finished the game, please take it in the spirit intended, as your first taste of a "fanfiction" tribute.
BTW, I didn't tell the whole story. My coach (a different chap altogether from your guy) had a very bad post-game encounter with some shady enforcers from the local bookie.
It seems there was a reason Wilb was put in the game--and it was NOT to win it.
Heheheh.
~ OMK
Shades of that Columbian goalie who let in an "Own goal" and shortly after was executed. My old bookie told me he had more action on the big Thanksgiving HS Football game than anything.
Yes, the wilb' story is basically true. Ruined my senior year of HS. Ironically I had more success as a club football qb than anything.
WC
"Kind Pete"
Pete found her in a gulch,
covered with dirt and mulch.
He quickly bent and knelt
to pull her up by her belt.
She was tiny and petite,
and he found her very sweet.
He brushed out her lovely hair
but decided to beware
asking what she was doing there.
And so, his gift of seeing
led to their life of well-being.
What a lovely story
of companionable glory!
How sweet
of Pete
to meet
her dream of a “rescue fantasy.”
He should alert all sadsack femmes
when he’s coming unto them,
so’s they can wear their saddest faces
& wriggle into Pete's good graces.
Maybe he should ride in a cart
decked out with bells shaped like a heart.
Then they’ll hear
him coming near
and they can lift a pitiable prayer
to his bell-wheeling chair, there.
~ OMK
PS. I'm not really breaking my day off.
I don't count the verse above as a "real" poem, as it wasn't meant to capture the clue words.
Except for a mild play on the solution, this is a commentary on Misty's sweet ode to "Kind Pete."
~ OMK
It's a pretty poetic--hey, excellent poetic--commentary on my lousy poem, Ol'Man Keith. The only thing you can give me credit for is using all the Jumble words in order at the end of the verse. Not a great accomplishment, but my little contribution, for whatever it's worth.
You deserve credit for more than that.
I see "Kind Pete" as a response & continuation of "Poor Richard"'s profile, a theme in the making of personality types.
If you were a wannabe composer, you'd already be in the "development " phase.
Not so "little" a step to be taking.
Now, it is way too soon for you to be assaying "Worthy Wilbur" or "Original Owen," but I expect those will be popping up somewhere down the line.
~ OMK
I have Saturday's doggerel ready to post. It's a tale from my gambling past. Me and a pal loved college basketball and we found a guy who would take b-ball bets. But...
If the spread was 3 he'd offer 2 for the underdog but the favorite had to give four. If the defecit was 3 on the nose he collected all the bets.
4 was a push if taking the favorite eg no bet. So you could lose $10, win $10 or break even. Plus add vigorish 10% to the losing bet.
The way ol' Wilbur looked at it he really wasn't betting$10 he was betting $20: the ten he didn't lose plus the ten he won. Therefore the push was like winning$10. Kapiche? And VV.
That's background for tomorrow
WC
Something in the J's reminded me. I wrote Saturday before Wednesday's poem.
I consider my self third at best in this rhyming merry-go-round. OMK you've just grabbed the brass ring and done gone and run with it.
Except I get such encouragement from y'all and Sandy's kudos are especially welcome.
Speaking of...
Went with Betsy to see "The Sandy Porch" a bluegrass band that was terrific. Sandy played bass and sang. Plus a banjo, a mandolin, guitar and fiddle.
WC
Btw, I'd still welcome a comment re. "Cherry Garcia" being a pun. I say no.
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