Irish Pub.

Donnybrook Hotel.

They’d meet by flickering firelight in an Irishmans hotel

enjoy some finest whisky and very fine food as well

but often tempers rise up, as they would dance and play

just saying  “good evenin” could cause an all in one affray.

A frenzied fracas might ensue if the tone was quiet and wry

especially if a stranger caught a keen young colleens eye

took her to the parlour where he’d steal a fervent kiss

to a wild and riotous Irishman this was definitely amiss.

Fey leprechauns and fireflies would in the dark, appear

to keep an unfriendly stranger from coming much to near

they’d dance upon the toadstools and the velvet black of night 

and not go to the garden, there to steal a fervent kiss

from a wild young Irish colleen that could fill his life with bliss.

But then the total stranger did eagerly declare -

I have no need for colleens. I only need your fare.

I must drink and dine with kinship that take me to their breast.

I must full enjoy companionship, before I travel further west. 

My heart is, with the green of Ireland and in its stoney shores,

it dwells in old Killarney where my soul it still implores.

But Nay! they would have none of it, the leprechauns agreed.

They led him to the front step and wished him all good speed

whilst fireflies lit the pathway, to guide his wavering feet

that stumbled slowly down the path, albeit not too fleet.

Because he’d spied that Irish colleen, with fiery blood red hair,

waiting in the shadows with just enough time to spare, 

for only one more fleeting kiss and a touch of derring-dare.

©.Rimeriter.

31/3/04.

This ol' Pub exists near Lithgow in NSW.

The Portland Poet would know it well.

Masters Hand.

THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer

Thought it scarcely worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin,

But held it up with a smile.

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,

"Who'll start the bidding for me?"

"A dollar, a dollar;" then, "Two!" "Only two?

Two dollars, and who'll make it three?"

"Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;

Going for three…" But no,

From the room, far back, a grey-haired man

Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,

And tightening the loosened strings,

He played a melody pure and sweet,

As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,

With a voice that was quiet and low,

Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"

And he held it up with the bow.

"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?

Two thousand! And who'll make it three?

Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,

And going and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

"We do not quite understand.

What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:

"The touch of the master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,

And battered and scarred with sin,

Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd

Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,

A game — and he travels on.

He is "going" once, and "going" twice,

He's "going" and almost "gone."

But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd

Never can quite understand

The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought

By the touch of the Master's hand.

- Myra Brooks Welch

Would that one could write this well.  Ah me !!

Paraprosdokian 2 :

"She got her good looks from her father,

                                   he's a plastic surgeon".

A Paraprosdokian:

?????    Blimey, a new word to me.

Apparently this is an example -

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism;

To steal from many is research.

***

Does anyone have other examples ?