Rhyme & Reason - a reason to rhyme

  Over there in England , in the neighbourhood of Lee,   A tiny babe, in ’61, increased our family.   Almost eight pound, an ideal birth, you joined your dad and I,   Reflecting back with fondness brings a teardrop to my eye.             Now as a child, most children do, you questioned this and that,   Though quite persistent in your ways, you wanted things ‘down pat’.        A year at school in England and then you said ‘farewell’    To all your friends, when we all moved to western shores so swell.                                           Within five years of moving, you showed a talent rare,    A local ‘Scot’ the bagpipes taught, you had a natural flair,    This music plays a vital role for Christopher today,    The Police band has the honour, to have this piper play.      While still a late teenager, ‘old England ’, your heart, ate,      And so you traveled back alone, whilst there, you joined the ‘Met’.       ‘Lone ranger’ and in ‘cruise

                25th                                                   D ebonair and dapper while clad in fine attire,   A nticipating beauty, the one of his desire,   N ow the music beckons, the Bridal March resounds ,   I n apparel radiant, her beauty, all, astounds.   E ntrance is preceded by dazzling maidens fair,   L ove is so apparent, it’s noted everywhere.     A fter vows are witnessed, a promise made for life,      N ext the declaration, “pronounce you man and wife”   D own the years together, a clan of boys on tow,   K nitting them in harmony and love, as they did grow,   I mpassioned and adoring, with a love that’s strong,   M arried now, the ‘’Silver Years’, though                             doesn’t seem that  long.                                                                                                       Colin Ross C ongratulations S eptember 26 th     1987 – 2012 C oppins /P orlier

H orses are my passion I love my Comet dear A ll my friends and family, I hold them very near, L ots of fine prize ribbons, I’ve had them for a while, L ove to give out presents, to see another smile, E ating Yorkshire pudding, a wonderful delight, S leeping over with my friends, we talk and talk all night,       C lothes to match, imperative, it has to be just right . O n my horse you’ll find me, I d love to ride him more, M usic and a movie or M ars bar squares galore . E ach year in D ecember, a stocking’s hung, you bet, T eachers say I’m ‘pretty good’, but not a ‘teachers pet’                                                                               Colin Ross

      H ands high by fifteen, standing proud and tall, A rabian , Miniature , Clydesdales , this girl knows them all, L ook at her on Comet, not flying through the air L eaping over hurdles with elegance and flair, E questrianism is in her blood , she’ll never have her fill, S addling up her charger, preparing for the drill, C a ntering or dressage, she shows her handling skill, O ver co ming obstacles with footsteps sound and slow, M arching to the music or jumping in a show, E very time improving, she’s mastering the knack, T rotting, sprinting, galloping, loves being on horseback.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Colin Ross

September 4 th 1970 -2010 Two young folk in their twenties Did vow to share their love, In front of friends and family, Before the Lord above. Within six years of marriage They’d added to their nest, The Ross and Harris union With daughters had been blest. And so this love that started, Has lasted ages long, Four decades bears this witness, Their love is still as strong. Congratulations

Amber, crimson, gold and tan, Where once 'twas shades of green, This natural turning of the leaves Is such a gorgeous scene. The xylem tissues, no more food Unto the leaves provide, Thus giving the impression that These mighty plants have died. The trees, so naked in the breeze, Skeletonized 'til Spring, Their dormant season soon will end When new life will begin. The hardy annuals also die, They've given up their best, Now hibernating 'neath the soil To start a time of rest. Where we continually take our rest, Botanical rest is 'Fall' There's ne'er the possibility of Ignoring nature's call.

You will hear of wars and rumours of wars............this must take place..............nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom. Matt 24 v 6-7 As once again there's talk of war, When will all fighting cease? The pacifists shout out anew "Why can't we live in peace?" Young men and women, daughters, sons, With all their life to live, As they, their country's name defend, Their lives, their all, they give. Satanical tyrants lust for power, Oppressive harsh despots, Their sole reliance for their ends Are bombs and rifleshots. They do not care 'pon whom they tread, To reach their final goal, Or who they hurt or main or kill As long as they control. Yet this was prophesied of old, Two thousand years ago, Before the end of time does come, These wars, we all must know.

https://youtu.be/Lvhzg7rfFd4 "Like a puppet on a string" Triggers memory bells to ring That sixties hit by Sandie Shaw Evoking instances of yore. The Junior Boys Brigade display At age of eight years and a day, I was that puppet - when I hear, I'm transformed back to yesteryear. Imaginary strings upon my hands, Taking up a marionette stance, The puppeteer, I do not know, But strings are tugged and off I go. The strings controlling head and limb, Put me on an impulsive whim, When at the end, the music stops, Those strings go loose, the puppet flops.

Scientific advancement Creating something odd 'I AM' the sole Creator, Thou shalt not play God. Identically cloning Like two peas in a pod Cloning is not natural Thou shalt not play God. Designing 'ideal' babies Genetically mod. Children are a special gift Thou shalt not play God. Stopping terminal illness New ground being trod This is good progression, but Thou shalt not play God.

    Oh to be in Carrick Where the skies are always blue, Sitting by the castle old  And thinking thoughts of you, Looking 'cross the water  As the yachts go sailing by, Glancing up admiringly  At all that clear blue sky. But here I am in foreign fields, Where it is damp with rain, Thinking of the money spent,  Oh isn't that a pain, I could have travelled westwards  Where green fields are moist with dew, To that ancient and historic town,  Where the skies are always blue.

It may just seem like yesterday When Jean was wooed by John, But really, all those yesteryears Have inched their way along. We see a young petite Miss Hale In finery so grand, At 'Alexandra', stand by John And pledge to take his hand. To love and cherish, rich or poor, In health and sickness too Relying on their Lord above To help them see it through. This love that started way back then Is still strong, it appears, This Hale-Montgomery union has Now reached its Ruby years.

"Goodbye", - it seems so final, This choir has said a few, But really, it is very hard To say 'goodbye' to you. O'er the silver years of singing, Enjoying each low note, And even when the music by Our George, had been 'rewrote'. When in mid song, he'll gulder "You're hissing like a snake" "Someone, their notes are sliding" "Too many breaths you take" To me, the choir's a family Where friendships we did forge, And all under the leadership Of my 'big brother' George. Is this a day historic George? I see you look enthralled, For this must be the first time e'er That 'BIG', you have been called. This 'family' is extended, With aunts and uncles too, Time has its limitations So I'll mention just a few. The first is aunty Jean McBride, She's known me ages long, Why, she knew me when she was still My aunty Jean Armstrong. How could I forget uncle Georg

The time has come, the day is nigh, When we who toiled must say 'goodbye' With fondness, we'll remember aye The years that we spent at 'Burnbrae'. But let us take a closer look At matron, nurse and oft'times, cook, The one in charge of personnel, So many hats, she wore them well. In '74, not yet eighteen, Still pretty young, though not so green, To Belfast she did move, from Toome, Lived close to Judy Houston's room. The second floor in Musgrave Park, No doubt, these young girls had a lark, Areton Street, her next abode, Whilst there, increased her study load. At 'Royal Vic' the aged she nursed, As fully trained, this was her first, Then off to Knockagh Court she went, With Hazel's mother, time, she spent. Then Hal and Hazel hatched a plot Some premises they had just bought, And so to Burnbrae, Sarah came, As matron, she, employed by them. A personal trainer she employed, And many workouts she enjoyed, Each ant

They say that life's a miracle, This, Sylvia would agree, For many 'miracles' she observed, And each, a 'joie de vie'. But miracles happen all the time, They are not always small, The fact that Syl. will wed big Al. Is the biggest one of all. An eligible 'bachelor-girl' We thought she'd never wed, Until this 'Aussie' she did meet And pledged to share his bed. But not of course until that ring Was firmly fixed in place, Would she dare enter his boudoir To fluff his pillowcase. The day that Alec did propose Would've been a sight to see, Al. struggling to get back up From 'pon his wounded knee. It's said that opposites attract So is it any wonder Since Sylvia's from northern 'sphere, That Alec's from 'down under'. Though Alec's Sylvia's blue-eyed boy, We can't turn that around, 'Cause Sylvia has but one blue eye, The other, is it brown? Congratulations Sylvia, And l

          Composed for my brother after hearing of him compose something to the same tune (Greensleeves)                 for a nuclear family Christmas gathering              Alas my brother, you did no harm              Relating to us your aweful need,            The dreadful circumstance in which            You're ending up with green sleeves Refrain   So, so we urge you now               To use this present, when in need,               Blow, blow, keep your nose clean               Then no longer will you have green sleeves.                            These handkerchiefs are made of cloth            And large enough for any need,               A runny nose? just wipe it clean              Then you will not end up with green sleeves Refrain   So, so we urge you now               To use these handkerchiefs when in need               Blow, blow, keep your nose clean               And nevermore will you have green sleeves           Whene'er these handkerchief

It may be ten long months ago Whene'er my heart did break, You were not ill, complained of nought, Yet God, your life did take. If I had known a year ago 'Twould be our last Noel, I would have filled your life with joy Before we said farewell. Ten months have passed, I've come to terms, I know you wont return, But as I spend this lone Noel, Your company I yearn. Family and friends, elated are, Their Christmas, full of fun, While here I sit, a lonesome soul, Thinking of only one. So spare a thought for those who'll spend A Christmas blue, not white, For who's to know when you may say A final, long 'goodnight'

Technology, instantaeity, For some, they have their place, C.D.'s, laptops and D.V.D.'s They take up little space. Wide screen T.V. and motor car, Once luxuries, - not now, But absolute necessities Just like the cat's meow. Gone are the days when life was slow, Scones baking on the griddle, The children making up their fun, With childish tarradiddle. Walks in the park on Saturday, A family night of games, A life of unpretentiousness With really simple aims. But there are those still in the past, Communities such, are scarce, Technology may have its place, For some, it's just a curse.

E cliptically the earth turned dark, S a crificed for me and you, Je s us died at Calvary, Cur t ain torn in two. Thre e days later He arose, Resur r ection glory.

See also  - L I A. is a Good Year Our son was ill, brain disorder His seizures weren't that bad, Still hindered him from living life Like any other lad. At twenty two, he'd still no car, Still travelling on the bus, His older siblings all could drive, As could the two of us. He longed for independence great, A bicycle he'd ride, And though it only had two wheels, It kept him satisfied. But then one night he had a dream, Was driving far and near, The licence number "LIA" For him "was a good year". Now fifteen years have passed him by, His seizures disappeared, The day he passed his driving test, How mum and I both cheered.

If I could have a single wish, And know it would come true, I would not ask for power or wealth, Or monetary value. I would not ask for stocks and shares, Or even public fame, A larger house or brand new car, Or letters past my name. But just one wish would be my plea, And that alone would do, "To have suffice to live each day With health to see it through"

I've built a house of brick and stone, A house that I can call my own, With gardens at both front and rear, And all the best of modern gear. The site is past the twelfth milestone, Beside a field that's overgrown, Although this fact is unbeknown, I've built a house. Alone, I laid the cornerstone And since that day, the time has flown, From weeks to months and then a year, The final stone was laid with cheer And though my joints with pains do groan, I've built a house.

The leaves are turning amber-brown, The days becoming drear, They say that summer's long since past, Why, was it even here? Oh yes, in countries farther south, Or 'round that 'central line' But then, down there and all year through, The weather's always fine. But farther north, around these isles, The climate's not so hot, To our dismay we have learnt to Put up with what we've got. So as before, in years gone by, As winter looms, severe, We'll batten down and live in hope Of warmer climes, next year.

J  amaican sun in January,           U  ncrowded sandy beach, S  apphire sea seductively T  orments me to outreach. A  dventuresome and awesome, W  hite horses waving by,  I  sland paradise, ideal, S  himmering sun in clear blue sky,  H  eavenly enchanting appeal.

 She never asks a question, And yet, she's always there, Her love is unconditional. Her love is always fair. She has no sense of reason, The time, she cannot tell, But for rising and retiring, These times she knows quite well. And then of course, there's supper, She knows she'll get a snack, Five fingertips of butter Helps keep her coat gloss black. When beads of light are dancing On ceiling or on wall, She'll jump so high to catch them, But never will she fall. She loves to have her comfort, Security and heat, When waking in the morning, She's curled up, 'round my feet. Someone to share your problems, A listening ear to bend, How could I live without her? My little feline friend.

I cannot see the beauty That for granted, others take, The cloudless sky in summer, Or the stillness of the lake. The leas, adorned with colour By the 'drops and bells of blue, The spider's webs that glisten With the sheen of morning dew. But I have got a vision That is special just to me, A sense of inner beauty, Let me tell you what I see. The flowers, like an altar Send an incense in the air, The lavander and 'suckle Growing wildly everywhere. The music of the river Speedily ripples past my way, I hear it singing to me As with pebbles it does play. I feel the wind so gentle Like a kiss upon my face, The sticky thread from spiders As they weave their webs of lace. Then on my lips, the raindrops, As they fall on me, barefaced, Send innermost revival With a fresh enriching taste. Yes, I have got a vision That 'most anyone can see, A sensual arousal That you too can share with me.

D ug out of mines deep in the ground        I 'm overjoyed that you were found, A mazing spectrum you project, M yriad lovers, you select, O rectic, you're the natural choice, N iveous, or it that like 'ice'? D ebonair, one can overspend, S et in gold, you're a girls best friend.

She sits there by the window, Though not to snoop or pry, But as a caring neighbour Who keeps a watchful eye. She notes when no-one visits And pops in for a chat, Aware of family problems, She's e'er the diplomat. Though down the road by six miles, I still am not 'next door' So it is reassuring that On her I can implore. My mother, she is aging, Though independant still, To keep her self-sufficiency, The struggle is uphill. But thanks to this good neighbour, The gradient's less severe And though it's been said often, These thanks are most sincere. Margaret lived across the road from my aged parents and popped in every so often if no one visited.

One hour forward, one hour back, Oh what a waste of time, G.M., B.S. and back again, It's quite a pantomime. An hour less at work, for some, And then, an hour more, The time it takes to change each clock Is really quite a chore. Up north they say it gets too dark As weans go off to school, So back one hour the clocks do go Like a regimental rule. But one solution is at hand That I suggest we do, Just change the clock by one half hour And keep that all year through.

C does not mean C haos ,instead, it's the C hrist child, H is not the H ustle , but H ope from one so mild, R for  R udolph reindeer ? not so, R edeemer came,  I   does not mean I cicles , but I nfant , Christ his name, S   does not the S tocking mean, but S hepherds from afar, T is not the T urkey , but T hree wise men and a star, M for M istletoe ? not so, the M anger , rude and bare, A is not for A lcohol , but A gape , to spare, S for S anta Clause ? not so, the S on of God come down,    One side of Christmas, temporal,    The other, yields a crown.