Phill Williams wrote:my grass is green
as green as a bean
a green bean of course
a green bean running
a runner bean, therefore
a flyer in the airforce
a pilot in a grey suit
not a business man in his flute ( cockney rhyming slang for suit)
a flute to make the sound toot
a journey takes it's own route
or maybe just a plant root
or just a shoot of grass
Thank you Phill I really enjoyed the way you wrote that with good humour this has been really entertaining for me yours and Mojos clever feedback.. In the spirit of joining in this and having some more fun with words, Phill I will have another go at this as a word play on your four last words, " a shoot of grass" as my second sentence starting point and see where it takes me. I will take on the persona of a character who doesn't want to use a word that rhymes with grass.
As I sat on our cut grass.
A shoot of grass.
Shot up into my bus pass pocket.
Not the part that sits on the grass.
And that a be.
Not that part of my anatomy,
Some say is pronounced with an ah and ends with a is.
For now that a be.
All from me.
Today I have had my hours in the garden.
Time for me to head inside.
Take of my dirty jeans.
Nothing obscene.
Just time with my queen.
Who loves my green beans.
My long-suffering missus.
Drinking lemonade and lime.
We are taking our time.
Happily, me and my cheese and kisses.
Talk about Beirut.
While eating our hot beetroot.
Plus, some fruit.
Time to get changed into my whistle and toot.
It could be a hoot.
As the rubbery dub beckons. (Pub)
With the help of natural gas from my baked beans.
The air force the beer.
Out of my glass.
I sat down and talked about my past.
The barmaid with a wink and a smile makes a pass.
That makes me almost fall down.
On my glass.
Some people suggest to me In jest not glass the backside word should be used.
Not for me that replacement word for that part of my anatomy.
To be or not to be no say I to a pub Shakespeare that word that rhymes with pass is not to be used by me..
Not for you drunken bum shaking your pool spear at me will I mention that part of my anatomy.
If this was old England a place with different cues.
They would banish you pointing with raised finger to a far queue.
After a challenge to my honour and one game of pool.
With a quick turn of phrase my unsaid part rises of bar stool.
That was enough for me.
The bar room scribe in me and my anatomy.
Maybe we should have talked about astronomy.
With certainty and dignity.
Time to leave the Pear & Fig.
Head back to my digs. (Digs my home my accommodation)
My home with no Gnomes in the garden.
My happy crash pad.
With nothing sad not even a cold shoulder or hot tongue abusing me.
Just for lucky me a hot meal cooked with love, Italian parsley, rosemary and fresh garden thyme.
Can’t find anything else that might rhyme.
I’ve run out of time.
To add more lines.
To the other’s with poetry on chordie. I doth my hat to you in praise.
With all my twist and strange turns of phrase.
I wouldn’t be surprised if you want me to burn and put my body in an urn.
Die on stage and leave this page.
( Digs is a slightly old fashioned term, for student accommodation or military use of civilian lodgings which are traditionally known as "digs". Actors and musos on tour would also use the term "digs" if staying at a cheap hotel or bed & breakfast house. Here in NZ some nowadays use it as a name for their home my digs )
