They're hard times for poor cobbler Bill; There's only 10 pence in the till, His whole stock in trade* Is one piece of suede, So how's he his belly to fill? (* And wife Suzanne's sure got plenty holes in her stockin's.) That leather he thinks he will take, One last pair of shoes for to make; But he's wondering who Wants hyacinth blue Suede mules but it's now make or break. (Down to his last, remember.) Here's Suzy, who's been on the booze, She tries not her balance to lose, But knocks down, the fool, A sharp bladed tool: "Don't step, dear, on my shoe blade, Suze!" (Can you see where it's going yet, Rolf?) He makes them, a massive size 9, And reckons they look pretty fine. And hopes that some miner From South Carolina, Will buy them for huge Clementine. (What d'ya mean, plagiarisation?) Then in comes a big greasy schmuck, Hair styled like rear of a duck, "Need shoes for One Night, So if That's All Right, I'll take them, but down on my luck... (DA haircut. Ask your grandad.) "... I'll promise , and this ain't no trick, see, We're men of our word down in Dixie, If they fits my feets, You've half the receipts, Of my disc sales, or I'm a green pixie." (Now there's a hint to the obscurity!) To which cobbler Bill makes this cry: You think that A Fool Such As I, That chance up would throw?* Son, take 'em and go" And waves him farewell with a sigh. (*A preposition is something not to end a sentence with.) And prosper did old cobbler Bill, With suzy his dreams did fulfill Lived happy e'er after? That stupid! No dafter! He now lies in peace on Boot Hill. (And now the subject line: If the plural of thesis is theses, And the plural of synopsis is synopses, Then what is the singular of elves.) And that sure was a load of old cobblers. (Sorry Merkins, that's even more Britolloquial.)
Saturday, July 03, 2004