laugh at life with gillie

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN MY WRITING PLEASE GET IN TOUCH WITH ME THROUGH TWITTER, MY HANDLE IS @thegrimbarian follow me and DM me if you wish. .  Or you can speak to me on Messenger.Thank you for taking an interest in my blog. If you scroll down my blog there are more rhymes and stories plus other interesting blogs of my blogger friends.

The pub is a wonderful place, the den of the macho race. where men quaff beer in haste. Getting drunk, a hunk? Without a six pack they sport a large keg, Some weigh 10 stone; that's in one leg. The pub is a wonderful place, Den of the macho race. Out to join the chase. Designer clothes, scrubbed and smart, looking for, a nice sweetheart. The beer flows the evening go's by, Throwing out time; the night does fly. Staggering out without a sweetheart, Following through from a wet beery fart. The pub is a wonderful place, den of the macho race. They can't keep up the pace. Out on the town, falling down; What go's down often comes up, Up and down out on the town. The pub is a wonderful place. Quaffing beer in haste.

He was confidant, he was brash, he had lots of cash. He went around in a Rolls Royce car. His suits were tailored by Saville Row; and he drank in a cocktail bar. He loved the ladies and they loved him, he'd take them up to his penthouse; just on a whim. He would show them his trinkets and expensive toys. He bragged about his exploits to all of the boys. He fell, in love! With a beautiful girl. They were married in a week; a bit of a whirl. But, her beauty was shallow, skin deep. Shallow; and cheap? She wasn't cheap when spending his cash, When his bank balance dwindled he lost some of his dash. He sold his suits, his penthouse and Roll Royce, She'd spent all his money,  he hadn't a choice. He lost his swagger;  no longer a bragger. The beauty left him with nothing at all, His lust had caused him to have a great fall. Nothing to brag about, no women to use; no more able, to pick and choose. The tables had turned, he saved up for a bike

              The Elves in the Hawthorn Hedge. I don't know how true this story is, but I'll tell it to you anyway, it was told to me by my Granddad when we were sitting on a stack of hay. He said he was working in a field, trimming a hawthorn hedge, when he came across a family of elves, tucking into hot meat and veg. They were sitting on toadstools around a sawn off stump; that someone had sawn off long ago. Granddad said he would not have seen them if he hadn't stooped down real low. They wore leaf green pointed hats and grass green clothes. and mud brown boots that turned up at the toes. "Oh," said Granddad, "I'm sorry to disturb you, I didn't mean to be rude, I hope I didn't startle you, or put you off your food." The largest of them; who was six inches small, said, "Jesus, ti's alright, well not at all. Would you like to join us in a bite to eat? We have carrots and tatties and freshly c

 It was an unseasonally warm February evening when Billy Bass scuttled into his local pub the -Bag 'O' Ferrets- with his Jack Russell terrier Ratty at his heel, he was shaking uncontrollably and his face was ashen.  'You look as if you've seen a ghost', Ted the pub landlord said.  'Give us a whisky Ted quick, I've seen something...You know those horror films where dead people come out of the ground?'  'What a zombie; or something like that?'  'Something like that, I thought it was a scarecrow, Ratty snarled at it and started ragging its trouser bottoms and it kicked out at him....' he paused for breath. 'Ratty squealed and ran off with his tail between his legs and this thing in pursuit; Flash ran off for home; she'll be waiting in the porch when we get there...'  he held onto the bar with shaking hands and gulped for another breath before carrying on with his story, 'I didn't hang around, my hearts thumping; I've