Cometh the Hour. Cometh the Rap.


John

  • Yo, Em-zy Emz, you thinkin’ yo’ fly,
    You got mad language skillz, spanish speakin’ ’till you die
    I’m hearin’ all that yo’ sayin’, like, my, oh my
    Wit’ mah fiddle an’ my folk playin’…
    …Um…
    What rhymes with my?

Emily

  • Hahaha that is the single most wonderful rap I’ve ever imagined.
    sky/shy/cry/high

John

  • We should rap duet.
  • Finish my rap, duet buddle.
  • *buddy
  • In fact, let’s have a duel. Right now.
  • C’mon, yo.

Emily

  • Bitch, please.
  • You must have a mental disease.

John

  • Ohhhhhh, yo’ pretty li’l white girl, you talkin’ mighty big,
    You sayin’ I got problems, when you rhyming like a pig,
    Yo’ skills be drivin’ me to drink, gonna have to take a swig,
    Yo’ powers come to nothin’, they depressin’ me to shiy-dt

Emily

  • Ooooooooh, yo’ be talkin’ like you rule the world, you ain’ nothin’ but a little girl
    Yo’ be sayin’ all this punk ass shit but yo’ head iz full of curls’
    Like goldilocks in the hood, all the porridge will make yo’ wanna hurl
  • You clearly won that one.

John

  • Wh-what, wh-what, what did you say!?
    Accusin’ me o’ fairy tales, and dissin my toupee?
    We arguin’ so bitter, girl, but I got a hunch
    This shit gon’ carry on when I’m-a-buyin’ yo’ lunch
    YO
    Fairy tales, never fail,
    Original work?
    You rippin’ off them kiddy tales that taught us Jill gets hurt
    Yo, I cut my hair short, keep yo’ info up to date
    ‘Cos if yo’ stuff ain’t to the point, you just inspirin’ hate

John

  • BOOM

Emily

  • BITCHES be doubtin’ my rappin’ skillz?
    get yo’ ass ready for some rhymin’ thrillz.
    fairy tales or not, yo’ got me doin’ drillz
    i’m like a fish on dry land, there ain’t no reason for my gillz
    YO
    I’m evolvin’,
    like Charles Darwin,
    the speed of my rhymin gettin’ worse is alarmin’
    so let’s leave this here before I call out prince charmin’!

Emily

  • THAT’S RIGHT.

John

  • I just got taken for a ride. Damn,
  • I.. damn.

Emily

  • Told you I had an inner black woman.

John

  • By the way, we’re making this a thing. This has become a thing now.

Emily

  • Ha, brilliant.

John

  • You don’t get any choice
  • You need someone to keep talking english at you when you’re in spain, anyway, or you’ll just forget it all.
  • It might as well be in the form of rap.

Emily

  • That is a very good point. All the Spanish and Italian might push out the English.
  • We cannot let that happen.

John

  • Don’t worry. I’ll personally take on that responsibility.
  • Because, you know, that’s how language works. Totally.

Emily

  • All the way. I’m actually going to post that on my blog. Right now. You don’t get a say in this.

…and that’s basically how it went down.

Starring: John Derbyshire and Emily Eccles. The whitest people you will ever meet.

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Insomnia


This is for a dear friend of mine who often has trouble sleeping. I doubt this will hasten the closing of his eyes, but perhaps it’ll put a smile on his face. Here’s hoping 🙂

A man lies awake at 3am
on a tepid July night.
Military may be his calling,
But shut-eye is his toughest fight.

His mind is at its busiest when his head
Is welcomed by the pillow.
It’s hard to slow down a train of thought
Which already proves difficult to follow.

It meanders through the forrest
He’s constructed in his mind,
Grown from dreams and memories, of which
His conscience regularly reminds.

Why is it, then, he asks himself,
That I am so teased by sleep?
Its not like he doesn’t work hard,
Enough to make others weep.

The morning sees him exhausted, but he
keeps going until the day is done,
Yet sleep still evades him long enough
To see the morning sun.

Now I love a good sunrise,
I’ll tell you that for free.
But this guy’s seen so many, I’m worried
That they’re no longer his cup of tea.

We all have crosses to bear,
Whether we realise it or not,
But no-one needs insomnia
Destroying our forests like tree-rot.

So pray for him with me, won’t you?
That he may snooze again,
For slumber can evade the eyes of
Even the greatest of men.

Cait


One of my best friends is called Cait. I wrote her this poem in an attempt to cheer her up and also celebrate our newly found friendship. I tend to do this a lot so if you need cheering up, drop me a line being all like “Yo, Em, I’m not feeling great. Little help?” and I’ll write you something!

Right, here we go.

Let me tell you about my friend Cait.
She isn’t small, she’s fun-sized, a fantastic trait.
She’s got big, beautiful eyes and she is never late.
She’s my new best friend, is Cait.

Let me tell you about my friend Cait,
And how men would kill to take her on a date!
As long as they don’t smell or tempt fate,
Things may progress further with my friend Cait…

Let me tell you about my friend Cait,
And how certain men (some of whom, we hate)
Have treated her like shit of late,
She doesn’t deserve such injustice, does Cait.

Let me tell you about my friend Cait,
And how awesome she has been as a mate,
If she asked for a cider, I’d buy her an entire crate.
She’s a remarkable lady, is my friend Cait.

Let me tell you about my friend Cait,
And how this poem is getting awkward at an alarming rate
Because bust like a fisherman that’s run out of bait,
I’m running out of words that rhyme with Cait…

One last thing about my friend Cait,
She got smaller feet than one would estimate!
She’s funny and pretty, someone I would never slate.
To sum up, she’s pretty freaking great, is Cait.

Haiku


In beauty and love
Trial and error curse us all, yet
It works out somehow.

My first attempt at a haiku. Be gentle.
E x