Be Excellent To Each Other

SteONorDar, then?

Is he Welsh too then?

There was a young man called kalmar
Who fixed roofs with his trusty mate Anwar
But once again we're big fools
We hung him til he drooled
And now he's, errrrr. Damn you non-rhyming name.

Northern Irish? I really hope you sound like Gerry Adams!

I am English. With roots from Liverpool, so almost certainly some Welsh or Irish though.

As for the "poem" thing, I think it's one of those words that is correctly pronounced with two syllables, but the vowel cluster can be elided to fit meter. There's probably a proper name for this, next time I meet a student of Literature I shall ask.

(edited for spelling)

OooOOoo! My name's Steve, I know words!

Actually, the truncation of words to fit meter does have a name, and I can't remember it, and I hate you*.


*don't hate you. I don't want to, you know, make people think I'm mental, or anything.

cheating? as in my case for the use of a haiku.

Fortunately, I may well be drinking with someone who is studying literature tomorrow, and so can ask. Or if I get bored, look at poetry resources on t'interweb.

Cos that's a fun fun fun friday night :-)

Heh.

I do think that rhyming eulogies should be part and parcel of it all. Simply as the MAFIASCUM game is played massively IC and everything about it, outside of that is OOC.

So, yeah top stuff again.

"Poorwmm, begorrah."

OK, I am going to try a Limerick today.

"Kalmar, a townie of stature,
Caught by the lynch-mob dispatcher!"
But within a week
Each roof had a leak
- He was the townies' best Thatcher.

We got the right person then, after all...

Rats
\

Very good mimi, I didn't consider putting the name first. Kalmar is an impossible word to rhyme with. I think 'Anwar' was pushing it.

Excuse my random capitalisation, Mr Dave, I was sending messages from XBox live to my brother whilst I was doing it and trying to type with one hand, half-heartedly.

Comical - it is the true cheats way to poetry? Can't find anything to rhyme with that last word? Move it!

Ha! No. My mother's from the republic, but I was born and bred in Gloucestershire, and sound a bit like Grim....

I was born and bred in Bedfordshire...

myoptika, a true cunt was he
the serial killer he turned out to be
the mob strung him up
bashed his face to a stump
much to their evident glee

So was I. Near Luton :-( Leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me.

(Apologies if you actually like Luton, but I find that hard to imagine.)

Fuck no. I was born right up in North Bedfordshire.

Here, actually.

Oh, I know roughly the area. Near Grafham Water.

Sorry that was crap. removed.
Malc

We celebrate crap poetry, Malc

Yeah, that's right. Basically: Nowhere.

Mr. Russ showed judgement poor
By joking of his mob rapport
Swung from the neck; quick, clean, no gore
They had strung up the townie's whore.

Brilliant.

You almost sound like you enjoyed this death.

I did not enjoy Russ's death
But rhyming is what I do beath...

Not bad Mimi, but you've got a mismatch of syllables

There was a young bloke called Russ
Who had a small issue of trust
In a financial fix
he turned lots of tricks
And now he smells faintly of moss


Or, errr, something

It did make me laugh, but I felt guilty afterwards.

I wasn't counting to be honest. I don't tend to unless I am trying to stick to a standard form, like a limerick or something like that (not that I sit here all day making up rhymes, you understand, oh no! ahem...) But that reads properly to me, without actually counting syllables or such.

The syllables I do not count
When judging every line's amount
Of words which will so neatly fit
And scan correctly to the meter that I have assigned so specifically to it.

I, er, am going to leave now...

Aren't the townies just about fucked?

Yes, we are on self destruct!

(sorry)

Still 7 or 8 townies left, surely? And only 3 or 4 mafia. It'll be days yet before any conclusion is reached.

The thing is, that actually works!

My name was Mr Russ
And with my trusty truss
I serviced men
But you all then
Strung me up with no fuss.

There was a young bloke called Squirt
Whose nips were particularly pert
When it came to the crunch
He went down with a punch
And now he's more than a little bit hurt

Poor old writer Squirt
Packed with polystyrene, eh?
Now he hibernates

Doh, a deer a female deer,
Re, a drop of golden sun
Mimi, swinging from a tree
Fah, a long long way to run
So, a needle pulling thread
Lah, a note to follow so
Te, a drink with jam and bread/
Which brings us back to Doh oh oh oh oh

There was a young lady called Mimi
Whose feet were especially teeny
Despite being funky
She's now orphaned monkey
By being killed and getting all screamy.

I prefer yours.

Nice one.

Mimi swung at last.
I am not as pleased as
I thought I would be.

This might just be my favourite so far.

Her name was Mimi, she had a monkey,
And a lion on her head,
but now she's surely dead,
She's now swingin', a hemp fandango,
Her feet high in the air,
we kicked away the chair,
Thought she was the mob, she did a retail job,
She was young and had a monkey,
Who could ask for more?

She wasn't Cosa! (Co!) Cosa Nostra! (Cosa Nostra!)
We thought she was up on their roster!
No not Cosa! (Co!) Cosa Nostra! (Cosa Nostra)
Murder and Fashion are always the passion,
For the Cosa.... but they weren't she.

(Cosa, Cosa Nostra)

His name was Pundy, he's so sorry,
He damned her easily,
left her swaying from a tree,
He feels stupid, she was a townie,
his accusation false,
now she hasn't got a pulse ,
Spoiling for a fight, didn't turn out right.
She had so much wisdom to offer us,
But now she's dead!

She wasn't Cosa! (Co!) Cosa Nostra! (Cosa Nostra!)
We thought she was up on their roster!
No not Cosa! (Co!) Cosa Nostra! (Cosa Nostra)
Murder and Fashion are always the passion,
For the Cosa.... but they weren't she.

(Cosa, Cosa Nostra)

You are a welcome addition to the game, and I wish to commision you to write songs for every in-game passing, past and future.

A definite round turn and two half hitches.

Good work.

Mimi was not who I thought she was.

I am the worst L ever.

Pundabaya=genius.