Baz's Birthday Party Poem


 

 

The Morris is a thing I love, been at it years and years
I've broke me finger, spurted blood, still grinned through all the tears.
But even though I look quite daft, there's worser things to tell
There's men who dance in too-too's, Pink Bunnies, straight from Hell

I thought me mates were jokin, when first I heard the tale
Of loads of bright pink loonies, but I've seen 'em, words me fail.
Now I've seen Bacup Coconuts, couldn't quite fall to their spell,
I've seen the future and it's Pink, Pink Bunnies, straight from Hell

Not sure if Devon knows what's next, after Dunster, Lynmouth Green,
The tourists, stopped and gawped and stared, small children how they scream,
It's quite amazing how they dance, all fluffy, chiffon, gel,
Their beards are pink, their knickers too, Pink Bunnies, straight from Hell 

'Cor Stone the Crows, I hear you cry, there's worse than Bunnies yet,
There's Morris up in Lancashire, they're blacker than your hat,
Now Exmoor Border leap and shout, sticks flailing, scream and yell,
But nothing can prepare you for, Pink Bunnies, straight from Hell

We've Powderkegs, from Derbyshire, they make a jolly show,
They whoop and swoop, perhaps explode, make friends where'ere they go,
I've even seen Steph's eyelashes, bright Gold, they're really swell,
But not as bright as you know what, Pink Bunnies, straight from Hell

The massed ranks of them OBJ's, descended on our moor,
They shattered all our peace and quiet, and joined in Exmoor's tour,
We like to watch them OBJ's, they dance the Morris well,
But the daddies of this crazy art, Pink Bunnies, straight from Hell

There May be Morris, just for one, there May or May not be,
Who knows how big it May become, with May be Two or Three,
But if you want to see a crowd, there's millions so they tell,
They're spread right round this great big world, Pink Bunnies, straight from Hell

Now we've got creatures on our moor, they're sleepy dozy things,
Lets find some black sheep of our own, why aye m'n, and they sing,
They're down here from old Durham town, cross mountain, peak and fell,
They think they've seen the future too, Pink Bunnies, straight from Hell

Oi Cloggie's, give us all a cheer, we love it when you dance,
'Cos dancing on a Quayside, you might fall in perchance,
But careful who you're dancing with, keep sharp your sense of smell,
Just watch who's creeping up on you, Pink Bunnies, straight from Hell

But worry not, you Cloggie lot, the Bricket Wood lot's here,
They used to be Dyslexic, but they're KO now I hear,
It's quite confusing 'bout their name, I thought that I could spell,
Wicket Brood or Bricket Wood, I know who'll show them that's no good,
Pink Bunnies straight from hell

And finally Red Petticoats, they'll clog and clog all day,
With flowing skirts, dance till it hurts, they show us all the way,
So welcome friends, we're glad you're here, with hankie stick and bell,
They're a curious sight, no bigger fright, than, Pink Bunnies straight from hell

But wait, there's one more lot to come, we sure can't leave them out,
The finest Worcestershire can send, our foxey friends no doubt,
So careful Bunnies, watch your tail, the Fox will have will have his fill,
We've heard how Foxes try to snare, Pink Bunnies straight from Hell

Barrie Cann August 2008

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