So I told yu gyz las yeer that I wud com up wift som nu Christmus Carulz, and tho I had intended to mayk up mai own, mai Onkul Ben gayv me 1 I had not herd befor. So heer it is:
Good King Where’s-My-Sausage went
Out on Christmas Even.
All the folks were eating then,
So nobody seen him,
Exceptin fer his loyal doggee
Whu brogt him a flashligt:
Cuz the King, he gots lostid
When ther wuz a dark night.
“Hither, Doggee, stand by me,
If thou knowest, tell me.
Yonder amnalz, whu they be?
Wher an whut their dwellin?”
“Sire, they live a good league hence,
Tho’ runnin’ helter-skelter!
Akshullee they liv nearby,
At St. Agnes Shelter.”
“Bring me kibble, bring me trout,
Bring me pine longs hither.
Thou and I will see them dine
When we bear them thither.”
Dog and monarch forth they went,
Forth they went together,
Through the rude wind’s wild lament
And the bitter weather.
“Sire, the night is darker
And the wind blows stronger.
Fails my hear, I know not how;
I can go no longer!”
“Mark my footsteps, my good dog,
Tread thou in them boldly.
Thou shall find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.”
In his master’s steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted.
Heat was in the very sod
Wher the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian species all.
Wealth or rank possessing:
Ye who shall now bless the poor
Shall yerselves find blessing.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Wull, I alreddee thogtid about becoming a fhyzikul therapist, but mai mom wuz playin wift her funnee rubbr cord thing that halp her bild her week musls, an it mayk me want to play wift stuff lik that. She gots it from her fhyziku thrapist, but I figgrz ther probabul lotsa foks whu yooz toolz lik that fer getting strongr. Lik footbol playrz. I figgrz that all thoz big gyz ar jus reellee overfed an they not strong untl they akshul werk wift toolz lik the reellee cool red rubbr thingee. It stretchiz a whol lot. I liks watchin it. Mom sez it keep her sholdrz frum getting outa hand.
Aneewae, if I wuz a footbol playr, I cud play wift it a lot. Mom remynz me tho, that I wud also hav to carree a footbol an run at saym time. How I suppozd to do that? I has to run on my feets! All of them. An a footbol is almos as big as I am.
So mebbe I shud be a perfeshunul Checkrz playr. This migt be somthin to considr…
Monday, December 7, 2009
So now I’z thinking I’z goin to be a fhilosofhr kittee. This meens I spenz tim thingkin about Deep Stuff whil I’m lookin out windo. I fggrz out meenin of lif, mebbe, or whut is byootee or trooth or lik that.
Mom is not so pleezd. She sez, “Huh, them westrn fhilosofhrz is alwaes jus talkin about talkin about thinkin about thinkin. Whu goin to pae yu to do that?”
I sez, “I’l be a perfessr, lik yu!”
“Huh. Yu goin to grayd payprs?”
“Shur, it not hard. Yu sits on bed wift a crayon an grumbulz about bad spellin an sloppee thingkin an evr wuns in a whil, yu shouts Hollerlooya! I cud do that.”
“Yu goin to lektchur?” she aksks.
“Shur. Of cors. Whut is lektchur?”
“It meen standin in frunt of bord an talking about stuff, an then remyndin them stoodints that they shud hav written it down.”
“Oh, yah. I cud do that. I eevn gots mai ferst synmint.”
“Yah. I mayks them go to lyburree in payrz. Stoodint A climbs on taybul an tayks nap. Stoodint B sits neer an tayks nots about how evrboddee els reackt. It show them how yu kin chooz the Gud Lif, a Lif ful of meenin, but othr foks, espeshul hoomin typs, isn’t goin to unnerstan. They needz to get perpayrd fer that.”
“Huh. Yu migt be betterer at this than I thogt….”