XMTS Poet Laureate Rhyming Challenge

[McClef]

But it takes no effort for to surmise
That grown men have passed from their boyish size.
As with all clothes what on youth hath fitted
Are grown out of, need with new clothes kitted.
Boys kilts thus must alas all hand downs be
When tight on waist or too high above knee.

[Barry]

Forsooth ye bawcocks all, I must retire
With scotch in hand, fast kilted by the fire
My quill is limp; it’s passion duly spent
It will not write of Bristol or in Kent
Perchance, in time I will return to ye
With stiff straight pleats for all to see.

I trust this doughty thread will not soon die
But for the nonce Barry must say Goodbye!

[kiltedsawyer]

If retire ye must, we say goodnight,
Farewell good friend, sweet dreams, sleep tight,
And slumber well, in peace, but first,
May we also, quench our thirst?
And so for that we humbly ask,
Please kind sir, pass the flask.

[kiltedsawyer]

So pass the flask, may we all drink,
To caring not what others think.
But should they wonder, should they dare,
Should they check Grant for underwear.
It is but we that truly know,
What is worn, the kilt below.

It is not worn but working well,
Yet modesty forbids we tell.
Now some may not yet some may question,
Some may blush at the mere suggestion.
For by design, not accidental,
Is worn the kilt, regimental.

[Rex_Tremende]

Another round! Let’s have a dram or three!
What better to inspire more poetry,
and maybe just a bit of bravery?
A girl may pose the question, “Are you free?”
And if a fellow’s had his fill of liquor,
He reveals the answer all the quicker.

See?

[MacMillan of Rathdown]

A glassit tassie within my fist,
Ambrosia! Such as lips hae kissed
The warming nectar of the Gods.
This drink o'kings and drink o'clods
Can warm the heart of angry men
So they become all mens boon friend.

[kiltedsawyer]

So to the drink, raise your glasses,
As well to all the lads and lasses,
Who wear the kilt and bare their knees,
To swarming midgie and stinging bee.
A toast to you, be of good cheer,
Summer comes but once a year.

[kiltedsawyer]

And down it is the gauntlet thrown,
Add your rhymes, your rhythmic tome.
Be they sharp, or perhaps obtuse,
put your intellect to use.
And join your couplets now in rhyme,
Careful sirs, mind your time.

[Barry]

And so it seems this thread has come to rest
We’ve plied our craft; we all have done our best
We have not found that Emperor of Rhyme
Instead we all have had a right good time
So let us all move on to topics new
For to the poems we must now bid adieu!

FIN