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The Re-education Of Barbara Moore

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:p From this weeks Times Literary Supplement:

Bad is good

The appeal of bad verse is that you know where you are with it – something that cannot always be said of verse that claims to be good. Poets of the “People’s Journal”: Newspaper poetry in Victorian Scotland brings to light a trove of popular poetry published in the Dundee newspaper between 1858 and 1883. It proves William McGonagall wasn’t the only bad poet around. He was, in fact, better than he’s given credit for. McGonagall performed the trick of making badness good.

Nor was he the only one to write about the construction and subsequent collapse of the Tay Bridge, which links Dundee to Fife. In 1870, the Journal published a poem by J. B. M.:

Tay’s broad stream will soon be bridged,
And critics all agree
’Twill give our rising town a life,
And famous make Dundee . . .

Which is pretty tame. McGonagall, by contrast, offers vivid imagery and technical detail -

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
With your numerous arches and pillars in so grand array
And your central girders, which seem to the eye
To be almost towering to the sky.
The greatest wonder of the day,
And a great beautification to the River Tay,
Most beautiful to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.

(unfortunately the rest of the article's online for TLS subscribers only,
but your Forums' Poet Laureate is proud to kneel in the line of Great Scottish Bad Poets :p)
 
And there are few things as good as bad Hemingway:

The winner begins:

"In the late summer of that year we lived in a condo in North Dallas that looked across the tollway to the discos and honky tonks of the Rue St. Bubba. We were young and our happiness dazzled us with its strength. But there was also a terrible betrayal that lay within me like a Merle Haggard song at a French restaurant. . . ."

It falls, in the end, on a pun so grammatically grotesque that it cannot be read aloud, but must be seen to be understood:

"We went that summer to many clubs. We went to the Longhorn Ballroom and to the Palm and to a honky tonk in Fort Worth that was what Harry's Bar would have been like if it had 85-cent Pearl Beer and a barmaid whose peroxide hair could damage your eyes as if you had watched an eclipse. That night we visited them all, but as we drove home I did not think of the Pearl Beer and I did not think of the peroxide. I did not think of the girl who sat beside me. I thought of the woman of the tollway, and I could feel my heart pounding in the heat of the summer night. 'Stop the car,' the girl said.

"There was a look of great and terrible sadness in her eyes. She knew about the woman of the tollway. I knew not how. I started to speak, but she raised an arm and spoke with a quiet and peace I will never forget.

" 'I do not ask for whom's the tollway belle,' she said. 'The tollway belle's for thee.'
 
And there are few things as good as bad Hemingway:

The winner begins:

"In the late summer of that year we lived in a condo in North Dallas that looked across the tollway to the discos and honky tonks of the Rue St. Bubba. We were young and our happiness dazzled us with its strength. But there was also a terrible betrayal that lay within me like a Merle Haggard song at a French restaurant. . . ."

It falls, in the end, on a pun so grammatically grotesque that it cannot be read aloud, but must be seen to be understood:

"We went that summer to many clubs. We went to the Longhorn Ballroom and to the Palm and to a honky tonk in Fort Worth that was what Harry's Bar would have been like if it had 85-cent Pearl Beer and a barmaid whose peroxide hair could damage your eyes as if you had watched an eclipse. That night we visited them all, but as we drove home I did not think of the Pearl Beer and I did not think of the peroxide. I did not think of the girl who sat beside me. I thought of the woman of the tollway, and I could feel my heart pounding in the heat of the summer night. 'Stop the car,' the girl said.

"There was a look of great and terrible sadness in her eyes. She knew about the woman of the tollway. I knew not how. I started to speak, but she raised an arm and spoke with a quiet and peace I will never forget.

" 'I do not ask for whom's the tollway belle,' she said. 'The tollway belle's for thee.'
That is truly terrible, Windar!:rolleyes:
 
And there are few things as good as bad Hemingway:

The winner begins:

"In the late summer of that year we lived in a condo in North Dallas that looked across the tollway to the discos and honky tonks of the Rue St. Bubba. We were young and our happiness dazzled us with its strength. But there was also a terrible betrayal that lay within me like a Merle Haggard song at a French restaurant. . . ."

It falls, in the end, on a pun so grammatically grotesque that it cannot be read aloud, but must be seen to be understood:

"We went that summer to many clubs. We went to the Longhorn Ballroom and to the Palm and to a honky tonk in Fort Worth that was what Harry's Bar would have been like if it had 85-cent Pearl Beer and a barmaid whose peroxide hair could damage your eyes as if you had watched an eclipse. That night we visited them all, but as we drove home I did not think of the Pearl Beer and I did not think of the peroxide. I did not think of the girl who sat beside me. I thought of the woman of the tollway, and I could feel my heart pounding in the heat of the summer night. 'Stop the car,' the girl said.

"There was a look of great and terrible sadness in her eyes. She knew about the woman of the tollway. I knew not how. I started to speak, but she raised an arm and spoke with a quiet and peace I will never forget.

" 'I do not ask for whom's the tollway belle,' she said. 'The tollway belle's for thee.'
That is truly terrible, Windar!:rolleyes:
I did not see that coming. Lulled into a false sense of security, and then that. :p:doh:
 
A private invited our Barbara
To a quick tete-a-tete in an arbara
When the soldier bared his erection
Barb sighed in dejection,
“I’m used to the seamen in the harbara.”
Reminds me of the song about Jack the jolly tar, who manages to get into a young girl's bedchamber, and
So Jack became master of that craft-o,
and she was well-found both fore and aft-o.
With Jack in charge her course was true,
For he was an able seaman through and through.
:D
 
A private invited our Barbara
To a quick tete-a-tete in an arbara
When the soldier bared his erection
Barb sighed in dejection,
“I’m used to the seamen in the harbara.”
That story about the plantation
Menaced the future of the nation
It really was sad
That Barb'd been so bad
That she needed a re-education

I saw these!!!!!! :spank::spank::spank::spank:
 
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