"When Icicles hang....."

.

.

Certainly had plenty of icicles here,

although I couldn't find myself a 'greasy Joan'!

(couldn't find the original poem either.)

Having had a dozen or so inquiries about the cat's welfare,

(and a couple about me),

I thought I'd better scrape the ice from the keyboard

and defrost my poor mouse!

.

.

We are all snug and warm, and none of us are venturing out.

I have been busy giving the organ a strip-down and a good clean.

I was planning on making a new rank of 'Melody' pipes,

but the 13 pieces of brass tube that I ordered

have not arrived yet.

Ah well, such is life.

I expect it would be -4 in the workshop anyway.

I know, I'll get the Christmas tree down out of the loft

and check out the lights.

Hazel thought she would help by sitting in the way on the stairs.

Aren't cats amazing?

Never around when you want them;

always in the way when you don't.

.

.

Halfway down the stairs

Is a stair

Where I sit.

There isn't any

Other stair

Quite like

It.

I'm not at the bottom,

I'm not at the top;

So this is the stair

Where

I can trip

Bernard up!

Now Wesley......decided to....

.

.

....to curl up on my feet.

Lovely warm feet all morning.

The only down-side was I had to leave my slippers there,

when I wanted a pee!

And Joan never showed up,

so I had to keel my own pot!

.

Update: found the source.....Shakespeare.

Winter.

from "Love's Labour's Lost"

When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,

When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul,

Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,

And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marion’s nose looks red and raw,

When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,

Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

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