SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

The Song Challenge:   Digging herself in deeper and deeper -- Yep, it's your one and only Giver-uppper of the Golden Cow Chips, back from the 'moving' wars and ready to test your little gray cells once again!! I'll just take this opportunity to let all you wonderful Challenge!rs know how much I've missed you -- and I hope we won't ever be parted for so long again . . . This Challenge! will be sorta personal, if y'all don't mind too much ;-) . . . I do think, however, that it will test your collective imagination and rhyming capabilities satisfactorily . . . Here's a picture of the new homestead, perched appropriately on a high sandstone hill in the Post Oak Savannah of Texas (the East Cross Timbers, to be exact). Please note the sandstone wall on the left . . . behind that wall is a curious little patch of broken stones, buried in a sandy clay loam, quite different from the rest of the grounds (you can't 'dig' here -- there's one inch of dirt, then rock, then THICK wet (not damp) clay).  I've been digging and breaking rocks with my trusty spade and pickaxe for two weeks now, and I still haven't reached the bottom of this strange plot of earth. However, I have discovered a few interesting things buried under the first layer of dirt and rock . . . your Challenge! is to write a song about what I found buried beneath the red-tipped photinias, honeysuckle and asian jasmine . . . let your minds run wild and let your collective freak flags fly, my dear Challenge!rs and GO FOT IT!  Hugs and snogs to each and every one of you -- and two kisses on each of your cheeks (hahaha) -- �ine (songtress, chef, chief bottle washer and now Mad Gardener)


Annie Get Out With the Spade by derrymacash
(To the tune of "Let Mr Maguire Sit Down" and "Hot Ashphalt")

derrymacash's Comments: Couldn't resist this challenge! which was posted before I became active in this little ongoing saga.


I've never been one for labouring hard
Me hands are soft and clean
With nails honed to perfection
And polished till they gleam
But sure I come from a rare oul stock
That's familiar with the hod
The spade, the shovel and the pick
Are coursing through my blood

CHORUS:
Annie get out with the spade, get out
And give the land a dig
Your arms will ache and your back will break
And you'll sweat just like a pig
To think you've the strength of a navvy
I never would've guessed
Oh Annie don't stall, answer the call
And dig like a woman possessed

The first I dug was a porter jug
That was full of the Liffey brew
And the next I dug was a doodlebug
That got lost in World War Two
The third I dug was a bug in a rug
That was snug as snug could be
The fourth I dug was a smack in the mug
That stung like a bumblebee

CHORUS

The fifth I unearthed was hardly worth
The trouble I went to
And the sixth I unearthed caused lots of mirth
And a bit of a hullaballoo
But the seventh I found in my hole in the ground
Was the cause of some discontent
And the eighth I uncovered was nothing but bother
So back in the ground it went

CHORUS

The ninth I exposed was not, I suppose,
A thing we can rightly discuss
And the tenth I revealed can only, I feel,
Be talked of with those that I trust
My eleventh find nearly blew my mind
As I gazed on it with awe
But the twelfth surpassed, a touch of class
That left me wanting more

CHORUS

I dug at a rate, exceedingly great
But then my body jarred
As my shovel rang with a mighty clang
On an object big and hard
A way around could not be found
Such was this object's girth
And I cursed and screeched, cos I knew I'd reached
The Centre Of The Earth

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