Heralding Doggerel

[Hawkman]

He asked me, What’s your pedigree?
Said I, What’s my lineage to thee?
and he replied,
You’re nowt without a family tree.

So should my arms be quartered?

Only if you’re hung and drawn, said he,
but if you have ‘em, put ‘em where you oughta,
on the wall, above the fire,
or on the door.
And is your mantle torn like lace,
do your supporters pose with grace
at either side?

Be they beasts or men,
they’re no concern of thine.

But I’m a herald, don’t you see,
these things matter awfully to me.
I hope your bend’s not sinister,
that wouldn’t do at all -
a spinster shouldn’t face so deep a fall.

This blot on my escutcheon
ain’t no subject for discussion,
not with thee, at least, said I,
and raised my fists.
Though the words I used weren’t these
and had a tone that made him freeze,
I’m pretty sure you’ll more than get the gist.

I told him I don’t give a toss
for such frippery and tawdry dross;
he weren’t to know my father were a king,
and as he ran I heard him sing,
a twittering while on the wing,
Well, dog thou art and dog thou shalt remain:

rather a predictable refrain
from such as he,
don’t you agree?

[Jack of Hearts]

Missed this one, Hawk. If the intended audience is a category of people who can work through archaic semantics and know what the definition of 'escutcheon' is without looking it up, this reader falls squarely outside that group.

Also, this reader is as ignorant of the technical aspects of poetry as ever, so again, this may be entirely out of his league.




J

[Delta40]

well its' either about the aristocracy of dogs or of men or the peculiar similiarities between us both. I did think about old Charles I on the run while his son dressed as a footman.....

[Hawkman]

Perhaps this piece might be a bit mistifying to those unfamiliar with the comic traditions of the British music hall, and who lack a superficial knowledge of heraldry :D

Rather than interpreting elements of the language herein as archaic, it would be helpful to understand that it is intended as a nod to regional dialect, Northern, and specifically Yorkshire. There is a long tradition in English humour that a northern accent is inherently funny. (at least in the south of the country) For this reason, the great Stanley Holloway often adopted one when reciting his monologues, particulalry the tales of Sam.

This poem is essentially a piece of nonsense, (the clue's in the title which contains the word doggerel) and the subject also plays on the traditional class war which has raged in these islands since before the Norman conquest. Don't think for a moment that it is a thing of the past, it's alive and kicking, although people are now much less sure of what class they actually belong to.

Class, by the way, or at least an individual's perception of class, has less to do with money than one might think A chap can be rolling in the stuff and still consider himself working class. Likewise, an absolute pauper, who, although he may not actually be an aristocrat, by virtue of the fact that he knows how to hold a knife and fork, coupled with a certain level of education, will know full well that he is upper-middle :D

I hope this makes this little monologue less obscure :D

Live and be well - H

[Jack of Hearts]

Getting the urge to declare independence... something overly English is going on here.







J

[themiddleprince]

Getting the urge to declare independence... something overly English is going on here.


Be discordant down at Concorde
When you're bent on Trenton victory
debunk a hill
Of Hanovers
and when you think
You've one over us
Be told that though you drown our tea
Your humour's why we set you free...

[Jack of Hearts]

Golf clap, reluctantly approving nod and...






J

[themiddleprince]

Golf clap, reluctantly approving nod and...


:yesnod:

Excellent. You're so dry, JoH. Must be all that California sunshine.

Luvvit.

[blank|verse]

Good show, Hawk, old chap. An enjoyable romp of a poem - great characterisation and punnery, and I liked the 'escutcheon - discussion' rhyme.

[Hawkman]

I shouldn't worry, Jack. The English are a dying breed. By the time my generation has fallen off its perch the concept of Englishness will have ceased to exist. It will have been subsumed in a culture of globalized citizenship from which everyone feels excluded except when playing on a Nintendo or PS3. Here the population will happily rampage through cyberstreets, blowing each-other up. In the meantime the UK will have been reduced to a disparate and isolated group of provinces on the edge of Europe. Something for you to look forward to :D

b/v: Thankee sir, glad you enjoyed it :)

Live and be well - H