Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



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Sunday, November 3, 2013

Horace P. Flee

More Delores words!
And rhyming ones. What could be better!
thump, bump, dump, clump, rump, plump

Horace P. Flee was the Frump Village grump,
No loveliness in his demeanour,
He lived all alone near the old county dump,
Developed his skills as a screamer.

Whenever he heard just so much as a bump,
His head would pop out of the door,
With a noise that would make almost everyone jump
And his displeasure then underscore.

One day to the village known solely as Frump,
(Please don’t think it’s for fashion expression!)
Came a strong-minded widow, quite pretty and plump,
With her children that numbered eleven.

Now, when moving, one’s household goods come in a clump
And are sorted through carefully after.
And necessitate many a trip to the dump,
For the children: Adventure With Laughter.

Now, Horace P. Flee, that old village grump
Wasn’t happy with all of the joy.
So he shouted a phrase that made all of them jump,
He intended to hurt and annoy.

Then Abigail, she who was pretty and plump,
But possessed of a lively, bright spirit,
A piece of her mind, she gave that village grump,
And forced him to stand there and hear it.

Then something strange happened that day at the dump,
With all of the parties together,
For Horace’s heart hit his shoes with a thump,
While Abby’s beat light as a feather.

Their marriage was viewed by the Village of Frump,
With the two of them there in the heather,
The minister stood on a great old tree stump,
With a smile, he joined them together.

From then, anyone using the Frump Village dump,
(If it’s not too hard to believe . . .)
Found the happy noise now from the home of the ‘grump’,
Was much more than what they could achieve.

Horace P. Flee was the Frump Village grump,
Until life with his Abby ‘begun’,
When you least expect it, you’re knocked on your rump,
‘Cause there’s someone for ev-er-y-one.

12 comments:

  1. This is great fun and a lovely turn for the old grump.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Fills me with hope for the grumps in my life! :)

      Delete
  2. I found your weblog reality on Google. I'm extraordinarily impressed together with your writing skills so you have it together. I'm starting my fairly weblog and have already been looking for ideas so you have inspired me. Thank you!

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    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So glad I could help! Thank you for visiting!

      Delete
  3. You are indeed a brilliant poet; what a gift you have.
    Blessings and smiles on this one!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much, LeAnn! I look forward to your visits!

      Delete
  4. I love stories with a happy ending. And poems too.Wonderful job with the rhyme-y words.

    Ev'ry-bunny loves some-bunny sommmetiiiiime :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Me, too! I LOVE a happy ending! And now I have that song stuck in my head . . . :)

      Delete
  5. lol @ jenny above me, my mum used to say the same thing every time the rabbits had another batch of babies.
    Someone for everyone eh? That's reassuring.
    Love the poem and the names too, Horace P Flee living in Frump.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Heehee! Yep. I truly believe there's someone for everyone! So glad you liked it! :)

      Delete
  6. I love Horace. I think he lives next door . . .

    ReplyDelete

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Diane was born and raised on one of the last of the great old Southern Alberta ranches. A way of life that is fast disappearing now. Through her memories and stories, she keeps it alive. And even, at times, accurate . . .

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