On the death of Mohammed Ali; three clerihews

The man was a legend.  Respect.

I hope he would have enjoyed my use of the clerihew in this context.

If not then it’s not like he can hit me, now, is it?

*

So farewell, Cassius Clay, Ali

You knocked out a bit of poetry

That butterfly one sure packed a sting

And well done on the boxing thing

*

Mohammed, man, you’re counted out

You gave the boxing thing a shout

Wrote rhyme to make a grown man cry

And dodged the draft like a butterfly

*

Ali, you’ve packed your final punch

Man, you took boxing out to lunch

Men say that you are God today

Who made Mohammed out of Clay

*

© Gail Foster

 

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On the Passing of Howard Marks

Howard Marks; a Clerihew

So, farewell Howard, Mr Nice

Massive reefers were your vice

Life’s but a spliff to puff and pass

All grass is weed, all flesh is grass

*

Wasted Angels

Howard Marks and God Almighty

Shared a spliff and had a whitey

Then had the munchies, and a bong

Annoying Peter with the pong

By which time it was far too late

To frisk young Howard at the gate

God, seeing Peter’s consternation

Outlined the process of creation

How on day three he made the weed

With every other tree and seed

To raise in some, apotheosis

And test some others, with psychosis

Now, Howard’s stash was pretty small

And didn’t last too long at all

So, as he didn’t see the point

Of heaven’s joys without a joint

He got his bong, and skins, and tin

Chucked all the roaches in the bin

And, following a wicked smell

Went wafting off to score, in hell

St. Peter looked above and groaned

As all the angels flew past, stoned

*

by Gail

 

Farewell Father Jack; a clerihew

Father Jack is a character in an English/Irish sitcom called Father Ted, which is about Catholic priests living on an island. The joke of Father Jack is that he is always drunk and, when he is not being hidden from visiting clergy, just sits in his chair spitting expletives. Today Frank Kelly, the actor who played him so brilliantly, died. The English clerihew is a good form with which to pay him tribute.

So, farewell then, Father Jack
Let this be writ upon a plaque
“All things pass;
Drink, feck, arse…”

by Gail