[Lance Levens]

I've been a slacker, John. He's a go at proverbs. BTW My orange Harrowgate's apron is classy. I look like an orange, overfed Martha Stewart. (She's America's doyenne of all things domestic.)


All work made Jack so dull he was parted from his funny.
It's a sad, sad tale, so gird your loins, my honey.

Such a funless dork, such a work-a-holic tool--
All business, no pleasure, wouldn't play the fool.

We led him down to funny water, but Jacky wouldn't drink.
"I'll break your let's-all-chuckle chain. I'm the weakest link."

"I'll work until the day I drown; to hell with the funny straw.
My cold, laborious mug speaks loud as any law."

"All that giggles isn't gold; another day's a dollar.
Find me that pot of funny gold; then give me a holler."

"Your funny fetish is worse than foul; it's a fad, skin deep.
Watch my unfunny paychecks; read the zeroes, try not weep."

"Labor is the soul of it--at the office or assize."
Jacky stroked at thirty, employed in paradise.

[Roger Slater]

CONVERB

A watched pot never boils?
Excuse me, that's not true!
I'm sure it sometimes seems that way,
but I believe that you

should probe that glib hypothesis:
keep staring at your pot
and give it all the time it takes
when not watched to grow hot,

and you will see before too long
the scalding water steam,
and learn that watched pots boil just fine
despite how it may seem.

[RCL]

Roger reminded me of this old file.


The Gripes of Ralph

(Proverbs as Converbs)

My pennies saved no longer earned.

I led a horse to water—it drank and drowned.

I was in for a penny but never a pound.

My apples fell too far from their stems.

Rolling stoned, I gathered moss.

Necessity mothered my hesitation.

My daily calling was often galling.

My little acorns grew to mini oaks.

I judged not but was judged severely.

It was not better to have loved and lost.

I knew myself, but never you.

[Roger Slater]

GOD HELP ME

Where's the logic, if it's true,
that God helps those who help themselves?
Those who help themselves don't need
the help of genies, gods or elves,

and don't you think it makes more sense,
in terms of pure efficiency,
for God to help the helpless souls
who cannot help themselves, like me?

[FOsen]

Things

Here's a short course on things. One will lead to another,
and if it's not one, then it's always the other;
the best ones in life are purportedly free,
but then nothing is quite what it seems it should be.
While too much of a good one can leave a man sated,
Some say they're all coming to those who have waited.
You want one done right? Then you'd best be the doer,
though she who starts many, completes many fewer.
They'll happen unlooked-for, and first ones come first,
and the best-seeming ones may turn out for the worst.
When they all look their darkest, they'll start to amend,
even if all the good ones soon come to an end.
Last, there's one final thing, just before we're all done:
there isn't a new one under the sun.

[Susan McLean]

A penny saved is useless.
A stitch in time looks shabby.
If life deals you lemons, they’re juiceless.
The early bird is grabby.

Home is where the hurt is.
He who laughs last is thick.
What can’t be cured is herpes.
You can’t get straw from a brick.

A watched pot never amuses.
Two heads are one too many.
Slow and steady loses.
You can’t buy thoughts for a penny.

A bird in the hand may soil it.
Don’t wash your clothes in the toilet.

[George Simmers]

‛Doc – I’m concerned about how much I weigh.’
I told him firmly: ‛Run a mile a day.’
Some six months later I encountered him,
A changed man, sprightly, slim and trim.
I said: ‛ You’ve taken on my strict regime!’
‛Not quite,’ he answered with a cheerful beam.
‛First day I’m togged up for your running lark,
Young miss next door calls out a sharp remark.
I answer back in kind. This leads to that,
And very soon she’s sleeping round my flat.
Sleep? No! She’s like a hurricane in bed.
I work so hard that soon all flab has fled.
For exercise,’ he told me with a smile,
‛My lively miss is good as any mile.’

[Jerome Betts]

Nice one, George. Reminds of an oldie:

Reindeer Rumination

In a climate that tends to congeal
A moss is as good as a meal.

[Roger Slater]

Good one, George. Sounds like the versification of a classic joke, though I never heard the joke before and I trust you invented it. Nice.

[George Simmers]

I think I invented it - though it's hardly impossible that someone else got there first.