Ready fer tha world ta ring tha bells
of welcome ta wan an’ all, ye being
primary, meanin’ first an’ foremost
that here on me screen, I’m seeing.
Tha sun hae nae yet arrived but will,
At least, that be me premonition.
So mount yer nag, urge him ta gallop,
be sure ta sit straight in yer position,
speed oop naow, a jump be ahead.
Easy does it, naow , it be eight feet.
There be hard ground, tha ither side
I did nae tell ye, of tha ditch, so deep.
Wha’s tha matter naow, wha made
Ye fall out of bed ~ ~ happy landing!
Pick yerself oop! Hae a great dae!
O’ Yea, it be me.
Copyright © 2011 Charles E. Frost
December 3, 2011