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A filler

I’m sorry but the dog ate my post, so while I wait for it to re-appear in a more compact form, here’s something I found a while ago that appealed to my love of English…

I take it you already know
of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you,
on hiccough, thorough, laugh and through.
Well done! And now you wish, perhaps,
to learn of less familiar traps?

Beware of heard, a dreadful word,
that looks like beard and sounds like bird.
And dead — it’s said like bed not bead —
and for goodness’ sake don’t call it deed!
Watch out for meat and great and threat
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt)

A moth is not the moth in mother,
nor both in bother, broth in brother.
And here is not a match for there,
nor dear and fear for bear and pear.
And then there’s dose and rose and lose —
just look them up — and goose and choose,
and cork and work and card and ward,
and font and front and word and sword,
and do and go and thwart and cart —
come, come I’ve hardly made a start.
A dreadful language? Man alive.
I’d mastered it when I was five.

Bone me up Scotty.

How ironic!

Well, I now have A Dingo’s Got My Barbie!! on Blogger, TypePad and WordPress. What I don’t have is anything to write about…. And no, the irony hasn’t escaped me.

Men!

Now these pictures show some real class!!!

Weird…

I found this on the Young Writer’s blog, apparently it was written by an unknown author in the 19th century, thought why you’d want to do it I have no idea! But it’s sort of interesting, in a weird way.

Winnie and Walter

“Warm weather, Walter! Welcome warm weather! We were wishing winter would wane, weren’t we?”

“We were well wearied with waiting,” whispered Waiter wearily. Wan, white, woe-begone was Walter; wayward, wilful, worn with weakness, wasted, waxing weaker whenever winter’s wild, withering winds were wailing. Wholly without waywardness was Winifred, Walter’s wise, womanly watcher, who, with winsome, wooing way, was well-beloved.

“We won’t wait, Walter; while weather’s warm we’ll wander where woodlands wave, won’t we?”

Walter’s wanton wretchedness wholly waned.

“Why, Winnie, we’ll walk where we went when we were with Willie; we’ll weave wildflower wreaths, watch woodmen working; woodlice, worms wriggling; windmills whirling; watermills wheeling; we will win wild whortleberries, witness wheat winnowed.”

Wisbeach woods were wild with wildflowers; warm, westerly winds whispered where willows were waving; wood-pigeons, wrens, woodpeckers were warbling wild woodnotes. Where Wisbeach water-mill’s waters, which were wholly waveless, widened, were waterlilies, waxen white. Winifred wove wreaths with woodbine, whitehorn, wallflowers; whilst Walter whittled wooden wedges with willow wands.

Wholly without warning, wild wet winds woke within Wisbeach woods, whistling where Winifred wandered with Walter; weeping willows were wailing weirdly; waging war with wind-tossed waters. Winifred’s wary watchfulness waked.

“Walter, we won’t wait.”

“Which way, Winnie?”

Winifred wavered.

“Why, where were we wandering? Wisbeach woods widen whichever way we walk. Where’s Wisbeach white wicket, where’s Winston’s water-mill?”

WistfuIly, Walter witnessed Winifred’s wonder. “Winnie, Winnie, we were wrong, wholly wrong; wandering within wild ways. Wayfaring weather-beaten waifs, well-nigh worn-out.”

Winifred waited where, within wattled woodwork walls, waggons, wheelbarrows, wains were waiting, weighty with withered wood. Walter, warmly wrapped with Winifred’s well-worn wadded waterproof, was wailing woefully, wholly wearied. Winnie, who, worn with watching, well-nigh weeping, was wistfully, wakefully waiting Willie’s well-known whistle, wholly wished Walter’s well-being warranted.

With well-timed wisdom, Walter was wound with wide, worsted wrappers, which wonderfully well withstood winter’s withering, whistling winds. Wholly without warm wrappers was Winifred, who, with womanly wisdom, was watching Walter’s welfare, warding Walter’s weakness.

“When will Willie wend where we wait?” wearily wondered Walter.

“Whist, Walter,” whispered Winnie, “who was whooping?”

“Whereabouts?”

Welcome whistling was waking Wisbeach woods when winter’s windy warfare waxed weaker.

“Winnie! Walter!”

Winifred’s wakefulness was well-grounded. “We’re well, Willie; we’re where Winston’s waggons wait.” Without waiting, Willie was within Winston’s woodwork walls. “Welcome, welcome, Willie.” Winnie was weeping with weariness with watching Walter, weak with wayfaring.

“Why Winnie! Wise, watchful, warm-hearted Winnie,” Willie whispered wheedlingly. “We won’t weep; Walter’s well. What were Walter without Winnie?”

Wholly wonderful was Winifred’s well-timed womanly wisdom, which well warranted weakly Walter’s welfare. Whenever wandering within Wisbeach woods with Winnie, Walter would whisper, “What were Walter without Winnie? Wise, watchful, warm-hearted Winnie!”

[WT – weirdly wonderful wording what?]

Silent Saturday.

Img2_0061a_2

And you guys think I’m nuts.

I was dorking off when I came across this. Now these guys are really strange (I like the second clip best)…

Other Business…

Karisma tagged me today, and while I don’t do memes now, I used to. And as it happens I’ve done this one.