Brannock the Brave
Poetry
The Ballad of Brannock the Brave! 'Twas hoggin in the haggin noo And spludgered was the grisley Mew That sought upon the night so dark That Brannock, stood so soon to bark. Fair waves, they crashed upon the shore Of highland, Scoting, an Porrin Moor. Fair waved the beastie, fling abroad Scroting the Brasheck, in subbord. Fair screeched the night so dark and bold An ne’r a story be so bold As that of that of Brannock, man the knave A worldly man, and none too brave. Through the darkness of the plain The howling banshee of the sane Did meddle with yon Brannock's mind And curdled his sporran from behind Onward to the Rock of Scarth Stopping, ne'r to have a bath Soon that hideous mound was nigh And Brannock himself, a little high. | He knocked upon the windy face Och, fair lassie to embrace Hair so red, into wind did yell "Ye gods, Brannock, ye really smell" Stricken was poor Brannock's way To hear yon lassie, have her say The cruellest cut was o'er been seen Damned by lack of his hygiene. Back across the moor he stumbled A sad, torn figure, totally humbled The winds of Brasheck, tore his hope If only he had bought some soap. And so, dear people, heed my warning Wash each day, aye, in the morning Lest your fate be of Brannock's night! A smelly bloke, and not too bright. [Tony Matthews 2002] |