Christmas Is A-Coming

 

 

Christmas is a-coming

Porky’s a-getting fat,

If you are Seventh Day Adventist,

Stay away from that.

 

 

In the Moron household

A quarrel is a-brewing,

It is getting near to Christmas

And little is a-doing.

 

  

Moron wanted pork

But Simpleton refused,

She is now a Seventh Day Adventist

And pork she cannot choose.

 

But Moron was adamant

It was never like this

For pork is a definite essential

She wants him to miss.

 

So, noise broke down

All over the place,

All two shouting at one another

And in each other’s face.

 

But there was more,

She wouldn’t do a thing,

Other than take the SDA hymnal

And all day, sing.

 

  

“Simpleton,” Moron, shouted,

“But you for real?

Ever since you join the Adventist

Wifely duties fail.

 

You get real lazy

And scarcely doing a thing

And after every noise, I notice,

You begin to sing.”

 

 

“Moron,” Simpleton replied,

“You need God!

And that is all I planning to say,

That is all!”

  

“Every year before,

We celebrated Christmas

And you of all people, Simpleton,

Made a lot of fuss.

 

 

And now this year

You are trying to tell me

You are a Seventh Day Adventist

So, no festivity?

 

Not even a piece of pork

Or a little ham?

And you want me to understand

That is the plan?

 

Married all these years

And suddenly this?

No pork, no bacon and no ham,

What a miss!

 

No response, Simpleton?

Nothing to say?

At least you could quarrel and fret

Like back in the day.”

 

 

“I said too much already

And I fret my soul,

You can buy in parts like above

Or buy the pig whole.

 

I turn vegetarian

Eating chicken or lamb

With some fish, duck or turkey

But no-pork is my plan.

 

Do not bring any pork

For me to cook!

I am neither cooking nor eating it,

I’ve a different outlook.”

 

Denominations split

And religion parts ways

And for Moron and SDA Simpleton,

These are different days. 

  

Christmas is a-coming

Porky’s a-getting fat,

But Simpleton who is now Adventist

Is nothing to do with that.

 

 

“Grounds for divorce!

And this is surely one,

So, by Christmas time next year,

I Moron will be gone.”

 

 

“Be careful, Moron,

What you predict,

Before Christmas time next year,

You might exit.

 

Stewart Russell © December 8, 2025

 

Moronic Moron

 

 

A Moronic Moron

Married a simpleton

And Simpleton by name and nature

Became his lifelong problem.

 

Moron tried his best

To get her to divorce

Citing he was too good for her

But she was his curse.

 

He argued he was bright

But Simpleton was dumb

And so, he yearned for the day

The divorce would come.

 

Many a year hence

These too are still together

And perfecting their unique skillset

Of being a bore and bother.

 

Every day a quarrel

As though their daily meal,

The same thing often repeated

As in a TicTok reel.

 

But what was the attraction

That obtains up to today?

They think alike yet differently

In their peculiar way.

 

 

 

Moron had played it safe

From the very beginning,

And believing he was the brighter,

He’d always be winning.

 

No intimidation at all

When he first saw Simpleton,

He had surely met someone dumber

With whom to form a union.

 

Besides, who sensibly,

Would give him a second look?

Simpleton did and unexpectantly so:

And she’s the one he took.

 

You’d call him moron

And I would have to agree

But a moron without any equal;

Moronic is what he be.

 

Call it redundance

Or even over-emphasizing

But Moron is a moronic moron

And very enterprising.

 

Every moron, I do believe,

Has his own special sense

But because we do not understand

We often take offense.

 

 

But Moron is not fazed

By what anybody feels,

He is insulated within and without

With impervious steel.

 

Criticism does not matter,

He hears nary a word

Whereupon Simpleton attests to this,

And readily concurs.

 

He is still her darling,

She liked him from day #1,

He was the only one to look at her

And instantly she was gone.

 

He may want a divorce

As is his oft-made request

But there is no one like her Moron;

He’s the absolute best.

 

Let me remind you, though,

Every book has its cover

And there is a match for everyone

Which Moron did discover.

 

Moronic he may be

But has had a lasting marriage

And that is more than most can do

Or even attempt to manage.

 

Stewart Russell © March 22, 2025

 

Francine and Gercine 2

 

 

Picture two next door neighbours

With no paling in beween

And whose names make music:

Francine and Gercine.

 

Picture two fowl-cocks

To service the hens

And suddenly one disappeared

Causing big problems.

 

Picture an early morning

When only one fowl-cock crowed

And de neighbours had a bassa-bassa;

Now fuh de show!

 

“Francine! Francine!

Yuh got to come out here,

I en never see nutting like this

In all me born days.

 

Francine! Francine!

You still in dey sleeping

Or you frighten sumpting gine happen

And you in dey peeping?

 

Try and come outside

It en nutting suh serious,

Stop peeping and come outside

And see why de fuss.”

 

“Chile, uh was dreaming

When uh hear yuh call out,

Uh ask muhself, whuh loud mout

Out dey bawling out bout?”

 

 

Dat fowl-cock right dey!

Dah’s yours or mine?”

“Chile, dah’s my fowl-cock;

It was so all de time.

 

And besides, it in my yard,

It en over at you,

Why you wud come asking me

When you know so too?”

 

I asking you cause dey was two

And one disappear

And dat wun at you got my sign

Pun he tail.

 

If I seeing right

That wun wud have to be mine.

Dah’s my fowl-cock

And it was so all de time?”

 

“Well, you cahn be seeing right

So get yuh eyes fix

And doan come round me dis morning

Wid nuh bigfoot tricks.

 

 

 

You cahn be serious!

De fowl-cock over at me

And yesterday it tread one my hens

And did look real happy.

 

If he did yours

He wud be ova at you,

Like me, you got hens ova dey

And you know dah’s de trute.”

 

“Eva since

I tell dat wussless wun,

Gordon, put up some paling

And he wun get it done.

 

Rather than listen to me

And get de paling done,

All de wusslessman bizness wid

Is he Cockspur Rum.

 

If he did put up de paling

When I tell he,

I wun be out hey wid you

Facing dis calamity.”

 

“Gercine, I feel sorry fuh you

But dat fowl-cock is mine

And dat is so despite you tellin me

He tail got on a sign.

 

 

I feed he from chicken stage

Till he become a fowl-cock

And as much as you saying he is you wun,

I know he is not.

 

I maintain, if he did yours

He wud be ovah at you

And dough you drop out in first form

You know dat too.”

 

“Dat is my fowl-cock

And I gine tek whuh’s mine,

You en getting way wid nuh tricks,

No, not dis time!

 

So how you gine tek he?

You gine come ovah hey?

Dat wud be over my dead body!

Girl, not today!”

 

“Before I get myself in trouble

I gine call Gordon out hey.”

Awright, you call Gordon, I’ll call George

And let de men have duh say.”

 

“Whuh wrong wid de two o’ wunna?

Wunna cahn live in peace?”

“George, Gercine trying to tell me

Dat I’s a thief.

 

She cahn find she fowl-cock

And want to tek way mine,

I tell she dat dat fowl-cock right dey

Was we wun all de time.

 

She telling me

Bout some sign pun de fowl-cock tail,

I want you to tell she whuheva she try,

She is bound to fail.”

 

“Wait! Gordon,

You en talk to Gercine?

You promise dat you wud tell you wife

Bout you little scheme.”

 

Gordon, whuh scheme is dat?

Whuh George talkin’ bout?”

“Look a woman, doan confuse me,

I got to go out.”

 

“You en gine nuh way

Till you tell me whuh I want to know.”

“Woman, you cahn be serious,

I suh I have to go.

 

Tek yuh hands off o’ me, woman,

You igronant or whuh?

I tell you that I have to leave,

You en understand whuh I suh?

 

And besides, leh tell me you,

You en want to hear bout that fowl-cock

Cause when you hear

It gine only mek you drop.”

 

“I doan care if I drop,

I want to hear

So before you leff bout dis yard

Leh me hear whuh you got to say.”

 

“Awright, I gine tell you,

Remember, you ask fuh dis,

I hope yuh ole heart cud tek it;

Um is you risk.

 

I did feeling thirsty

An I en had one red cent

So de money I get fuh de fowl-cock,

It awready shpent.

 

I en check fun nuh sign,

I shee fowl-cock and I ketch fowl-cock

And I done shpen de money

I get fuh Francine fowl-cock.”

 

“Whuh you spen de money pun?

Tell me, Gordon!”

“I tell yuh I did thirsty

So whuh you tink uh spen um pun?

 

I shpen um pun rum

And now uh echplain muhshelf, uh leffin

And dey en neffin you nor nobody cud do,

Neffin!”

 

 

“So, wait! He sell my fowl-cock

To get he Cockspur Rum

And now you want to suh dis fowl-cock

Is you wun?

 

Well, de devil is liar

Cause see dat fowlcock dey wid de sign?

Yuh could cry from now till Jesus come,

Dat fowl-cock is mine.”

 

“Francine, I is real sorry

Fuh accusing you

But dat man is embarrass me all de time

And I en know whuh to do.

 

I promise to divorce he

But tell de trute, I en got de heart

And plus, he din always so;

At least, not when we start.

 

 

I tell he many, many times

He should go to Alcoholics Anonymous

But de foolish man suh people widout a name

Nobody shun trust.

 

He’s tell me when I get duh names

I cud leh he know

And if he feel comfortable wid dem,

He might decide to go.

 

But I know he en gine nuh way,

Dah is jest he excuse

Cause when Gordon see Cockspur Rum,

He jest cahn refuse.

 

Gordon sold Francine’s fowl-cock

To buy a bottle of Cockspur,

I guess he saw a relationship;

Wouldn’t you concur?

 

Francine and Gercine

Are still very good friends

But they do need a second fowl-cock

To deal with those hens.

 

Stewart Russell © November 24, 2024

 

Marriage

 

 

If you are married

Don’t try to detach

And if you are not

Be sure of your match.

 

Don’t rush into marriage

For any reason at all,

An unfulfilled marriage

Is the worst kind of fall.

 

The only thing that’s worse

Than an unfulfilled single life

Is an unfulfilled marriage

That is loaded with strife.

 

Pretty faces wear off

And alluring voices too

And the muscles you see

May be a mistaken view.

 

Strength of character

Does not grow on limbs

And movie-like marriages

Are made for films.

 

In the real world however

Marriage is for real

And the spouse is not a car

That one puts up for sale.

 

 

Until death do us part

Was the solemn vow,

It should be kept in view

Even when there is a row.

 

 

For while it is beautiful

Marriage can be marred

By the things one says

That leave indelible scars.

 

The enticing charm goes

And the beauty turns ugly

None of these comes to the fore

In an ongoing hostility.

 

On occasions it’s easy

And sometimes it is rough

But the overall picture says

Marriage is for the tough.

 

If you lack backbone

Or your spine is jelly-like

Think hard before marrying

For marriage is a fight.

 

On this you may disagree

You may be at the start,

Wait a little while

When something falls apart.

 

The truth of the matter is

It should get better with time

If you put in the effort

And make up your mind.

 

Fight for your marriage

Not against one another,

If you are unequally yoked

Now that’s a different matter.

 

Be sure to consider

And examine each angle

For a bad marriage

Can leave your life in a tangle.

 

Divorce is horrid

Especially when a child is involved

And just parting ways

Does not all matters resolve.

 

 

Tongue and teeth will clash

As ours sometimes do

But both of these are important

If our food we must chew.

 

Our teeth will draw blood

When they bite our tongue

But even when false

We still keep some around.

 

For a marriage to work

Each spouse is required,

Should either one quit

That marriage has expired.

 

All the more reason

Why you ought to be sure

That you have God’s peace

Before you enter that door.

 

Stewart Russell © February 2018