Scrabble winning poem.

The 'Ai' or 3 toed sloth.

I talked about this poem a while back, when it was going to be the (anti?) climax of my Newcastle festival show. It includes (nearly) all of the 2 letter words which can be used in scrabble. But I never published it because of the length. However, a couple of scrabble fans came across the entry and wanted to see it so here it is.

Sh! St! Quiet! I’ll tell you what happened to me
When Ho! I was accosted by a most strange enemy.
He had the muscles of an ox, he was angry and direct.
And I guessed that he was Scottish from his use of dialect.

Oi, Ye! Ch ug you, ch ug you I say.
Now ch means I, and ug means loathe- this just wasn’t my day.
Ye stole ae of my ky – he meant one of his cattle
I’ll ne let ye get away – Ha! Prepare for battle.
Cos you’re the one who pushed my sweet jo oy into the ea
I didn’t understand at all – I thought, did I mishear?
He explained, jo- beloved, oy- grandchild, ea- river.
and when I’d got the gist of it he punched me in the liver.
Na! I said, you’re mistaken, I swear it was not me
Fy! He said - You try to pull the oo over my ee?
(wool over my eyes)

He looked like a volcano, I was sure he’d blow his top
And spray aa (– a type of lava) all over the shop.
How could he be so angry, hadn’t he heard of meditation
Perhaps a bit of yoga would improve his situation.
But teaching this man inner peace would clearly be a farce
Give him a burning incense stick – he’d stick it up your arse.
Was I right to judge him, not knowing of his strife
Well- one look told me the man wouldn’t say om! – to save his life.
Still his face was red and straining – a mask of consternation.
Like the before picture in an ad for relief of constipation.

He was clearly deranged, I knew it was so
His id didn’t control his super-ego
And as if to prove how his brain had gone wrong
He suddenly stepped up and burst into song

Do, re, mi, he bellowed and also fa, so
He continued la, ti and then went back to do.

Then he pulled out his da, that’s a short Burmese knife
Then he pulled out an ax and I feared for my life
But I have to admit that things hit a new low
When he pulled out a Maori digging stick called a ko

At american college I learned what to do
My fraternity house was xi, pi, mu.
I didn’t learn much but at least I know
Exactly when it’s time to go.
I said lo, look – free whisky – isn’t that just what we need?
And as he turned to look for it I jumped upon my steed.

I rode a mile and I then rode a li
That’s a measure of distance used by the chinee (se)
But on the horizon always in hot pursuit
I could make out the shape of his gi- (judo suit)

I prayed to the gods, di – that’s plural for deus
I preyed that they might perhaps get in the wayus
Of this bloody Scotsman, his ax and my fayus
But would anyone heed my call

I couldn’t help but notice the distance shortened between us both
Because he was riding a stallion, I rode an ai – a 3 toed sloth.
I was terrified he chased me, wherever I did go
When he caught up I wet myself – having lost my travelling po.

I preyed to od, that’s an old word for god
I said wo is me and please protect my bod
But a kick in the balls from the malicious sod
Told me there would be no help at all.

He kicked me and oh! Of course I said ow!
For he kicked like the Zo – a Himalayan cow.

My first name is rolf that’s r,o,l,f.
And I am the one who will thump you to deff
He said without so much as pausing for breff
Ah! Eh! Ou! Er! Oh!

I tried to bribe him with yu –precious green jade
I offered him xu – coins, Vietnamese made.
It was clear from the start that he wouldn’t be swayed.
I could see that the end was ny.


I offered him money I offered him checks
He said he’d only be calmed by a bout of man-sex
Excuse me? You heard – m, a, n, s, e, x.
Well I had no idea he was bi.

I said ta, but no ta. I’m afraid I’m not gay.
He said neither am I. I don’t quite swing that way
I’m a lassie you see, trapped in a man’s body
Is it my fault the body is that of Bill Oddie?
So before you pass judgement, I think you should stop.
And consider the tranny, who can’t pay for his op.
You can’t say I’m exactly femininely built
More like a brick shit house – even wearing a kilt.
Oh ma, oh pa – I’m lonely Ay!
I’m so confused he said.
Then he took his da (Burmese knife)
And he cut off his own head.

He had no ba, ka or soul, no qi or life force
All of this meant he was quite dead of course.
So I think that we should now salute
This poem’s confused star.
Let us remember that poor Scotsman
With a sympathetic aw!