Speckled gourds and pumpkin pie
Picking chestnuts where they lie
Parsnips breaking through the soil
Beetroot ready for the boil
Plump tomatoes on the vine
Pressing apples, homemade wine
Mason jars stacked row on row
Lavender tied with a bow
Farmers whistling an old tune
Underneath the Harvest Moon
Explorers who first reached the Nile
Soon came upon a crocodile
Whose improprieties lay steeped in lore.
The wily reptile would beguile
An out-of-towner with a smile
Belying a betrayal at its core.
Dear friend, I wish to welcome you!
How was the road from Timbuktu?
Come near that I may hear what news you bear…
In truth, the beast had had its fill
Of horns and hooves and ibis bills
And thus, resolved to seek more tender fare.
The wayfarer, now curious
Despite all signs injurious
Would take the bait, not wishing to be rude
Recounting tales of spitting snakes
Of feuding sheikhs and salted lakes
And bartering with Bedouins for food.
Then we must feast! the creature cried
If you will let me be your guide
We’ll cross to where the spoils are most exotic.
It’s just offshore, a pleasant ride
Do climb aboard and sit astride!
And voyage with me into the aquatic.
To eat one friend is impolite
To eat two speaks of appetite
To eat them all may lead to the odd question.
But be it large or small amounts
To some it’s what’s inside that counts
A thought our croc is currently digesting.
“It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity”
A mantra of utter stupidity
For, muggy or not
Let’s agree that it’s hot
Before tackling the lacking aridity
Even at your throatiest
You’re not the least melodious.
The truth, my precious toady, is
You’re positively odious.
A lot of people ask me the difference between Canadians and Americans. Well, first the facts: our country’s larger, our population’s smaller, Canadian men liked wearing clogs in the ’70s and we’ve never considered testing the viscosity of spray cheese in space a worthwhile scientific endeavour.
I noticed while working abroad that colleagues soon began substituting American with North American in conversation. Such gestures are certainly appreciated but only serve to remind Canadians that while Americans have fifty states, we have only one: self-consciousness. Every Canadian feels guilty knowing their new co-workers are constantly bricking it lest they should inadvertently refer to us as American, a situation which can only ever lead to our greatest export: the apology. We’re famous for apologizing – we even apologize for it. I recognize that, even close up, we look and sound like our U.S. counterparts to most people. The differences are subtle, even to us sometimes. It is, however, my belief that the best way to differentiate between our two cultures is to study America’s greatest cultural icon: Barbie.
America has Malibu Barbie who likes strolling along the beach with the ocean breeze in her hair… Canada has Seal Hunt Barbie who is a crack shot.
Malibu Barbie drives a Dream Camper Van with built-in kitchen and fold-out tent… Ice Road Trucker Barbie cooks roadkill under the hood and homeschools three kids in her sleeper cab.
Prom Queen Barbie comes with her very own makeup and accessories table… Lumberjack Barbie’s sporting a Leafs toque in her wedding photos.
American Barbie hails from Wisconsin, studied in New York and now lives with her parents and younger sisters in California… Canadian Barbie was taken into care after her parents became addicted to online bingo and were caught trying to sell their own kidneys on ebay.
American Barbie dates long-term boyfriend, Ken… Canadian Barbie’s best friend is an orphaned bear cub whose mother was shot dead by two tourists up from Oregon for the weekend.
American Barbie is cosmopolitan and culturally sensitive… Yukon Barbie saw her first Sikh last week and asked him for three wishes.
American Barbie is a role model for her millions of followers on the internet… Canadian Barbie is completely unaware that a video of her bathing in what she thought was a secluded watering hole has placed her in Pornhub’s Top Ten.
Vegetarian Barbie only buys food from locally sourced producers… Marijuana Farm Barbie patrols the perimeter of her property in a JLTV.
American Barbie spent a fun-filled New Year’s Eve with Ken in Times Square… Canadian Barbie pointed out Ursa Major in the night sky to her orphaned bear cub – and apologized.
The push is on to get to Mars
Because down here we’ve blown it
I’m just not sure if Mars is ours
For who’s to say we own it?
Maybe its own inhabitants
Will greet us when we cruise in
In tiny, shiny disco pants
And shout We’re all called Susan!
We’ll tell them all about the Earth
Its sky, its seas, the land
How right from birth we know the worth
Of taking someone’s hand
Of running jumps into a lake
To beat the summer heat
And hopes that Grandma’s gonna bake
Our favourite thing to eat
The satisfaction we derive
From finding the right gift
And pulling over when we drive
To give a friend a lift
Why monkeys make us laugh out loud
While spiders make us shriek
How lovers can tune out a crowd
When dancing cheek to cheek.
Of course, they’ll think us all absurd
Forsaking paradise
But why come here? Haven’t you heard?
We’ve only rocks and ice!
Dumbfounded we would roam so far
They’ll note down in their book:
Good Lord, these Earthlings really are as stupid as they look…
We have a hedge – when I say we
I’m merely being neighbourly
Which separates us from next door
We’re Number Two, they’re Number Four.
The hedge is green and not too tall
And forms a living, breathing wall
Which houses hedgehogs, snails and toads
Who are no match for busy roads.
The problem is, our neighbour’s plans
Involve a wall where our hedge stands
Three times its height and twice as thick
He’s done all the arithmetic.
Just think how private it will be!
I won’t see you, you won’t see me!
To me, this sentiment offends
Because I’d thought of us as friends.
His plan to rip the whole hedge out
This ‘eyesore’ he could do without
We thought he had it all in hand
Until we learned it’s on our land.
So now he doesn’t speak to me
Which happens when folks disagree
Their house is also up for sale
A sorry ending to this tale.
As for our hedge, it’s still intact
And here’s an interesting fact:
He’ll get his wish without a wall
For soon we won’t see him at all…
On the news they warn: the city’s now a combat zone
Turned off the TV and went outside to be alone
Some I know are marching, mostly peaceful, others not
Strangers now are asking me if I’m a patriot
Sitting in my garden, how I love the peace and quiet
I’ll fight for a cause but I’m not brave enough to riot
Everyone has history, the grievance lists are long
Who gets to decide whose version’s right and whose is wrong?
Our multi-coloured tapestry is starting to unweave
Can we not live together? Were we just being naive?
I come into my garden for the colours and the light
A joy I’d miss if flowers only came in black and white.
When dining out we’re well aware
Our manners are on view
We open doors like Fred Astaire
Insisting… After you!
Which silverware to use and when
And how to hold a glass
While tackling pommes parisienne
Delineate one’s class.
But not so in the cinema
The difference is stark
Because it’s hard to be bourgeois
And crack nuts in the dark.
The lighting’s low so patrons know
When they’re not being watched
It’s fine to eat an Oreo
Retrieved from off your crotch.
You eat out of a bucket
Like a hog out of a pail
And when you’re done, you chuck it
Like a Molotov cocktail.
Wonder what life’s like inside
A real safari park?
Round up loads of humans
And then feed them in the dark.
If killer whales stood on their tails
And walked out of the sea
A dog’s next trick he’d learn real quick
Is how to climb a tree
Mr Ormsby At Large 