My My, Who Gave That Dummy A Dictionary Poem by archie hardie

My my my, `pon my soul!
Mr. Oliver Hamshanky, sometimes, exclaimed,
to no one in particular.
An` why did he exclaim, 'my my my, pon my soul, '
to no one in particular?
dead easy, `e lived alone
on the brow of a hill, in a castle,
far far away. wi` nowt but seagulls for company.
But then, sometimes, as the mood took `im,
`e jus` sighed an` asighed
jus` cos e` were alonely an` wanted company.
other than the bloody screamin` gulls.

But, you see, e `ad only `imself to blame,
BECAUSE `e `ad `ad, a squandered youth.
Yup! as he peered through myotropical eyes,
in a glazy daze at the distant haze,
`e was awonderin` where an` when
he was gonna get a dynamic gardener
to sort out his myriad of blooming myosoti,
which were bein` decimated by ravagin` myriapods.
These savage, these one legged legions,
couldn`t dance to save their lives,
a thought which had brought him back to Gene Kelly
a leg end no more.

Yes, my friends, when a youth
he had idolised that man.
Had seen Jiggin` in the Precipitation
more times than he could count
and had practised tap, till he was blue in the face.
Unfortunately, due to his zeal,
he had caught a plethora of diseases,
i.e. pleurisy, pneumonia, bronchitis and flu,
and now, to pass the time,
he sticks pins into a likeness of that hated figure,
unaware that the dancin` dolt was no more,
havin` kicked the bucket many moons ago.