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) -- Áine (songtress, chef, chief bottle washer and now Mad Gardener)


Digging for Victory by Bradypus

Bradypus' Comments:  Forgive, o goddess, the liberties taken with the statistics in the first verse, and accept this offering as a welcome back.

Every morning in the garden you would see her arrive
She stood five foot six, and weighed one forty five
She was broad at the shoulder, broader at the hip
With a pickaxe and a shovel in her good strong grip
That's Áine (That's our Áine)

Well she dug down deep, where the earth was hard
To try to make a garden in that bit of yard
And the deeper that she dug, the more she found
It's amazing what lies in the Texas ground
of our Áine (That's our Áine)

Well the first thing that she found, and I don't know how
But it was golden brown, and it smelled of cow
So she scratched her head, and a good thought struck –
"I can make challenge awards from all this muck"
thought Áine (That's our Áine)

And the next she saw was a glint of green
Was a three-leaf plant, fit to grace a queen
So she thunk a thought, and that thought passed muster
"Sure the next award will be the shamrock cluster"
From Áine (That's our Áine)

Then the next she found as she dug the clay
Was a magic harp, that began to play
And that melody seemed to strike a chord
"Well the next in line is the Harp Ribbon award"
Sang Áine (That's our Áine)

Áine's luck was in, for sure enough
She struck a well of the vile black stuff
An award, that was, as I'm sure you've guessed:
"Make me laugh and cry, win the Guinness Crest"
Said Áine (That's our Áine)

But the work was hard, she was feeling blue
When an ancient shield came into view
It had such a stench, but her will soon steeled:
"If you write the blues, win Cleigh's Blue Fume Shield"
Gasped Áine (That's our Áine)

Yet more treasure still was there to find
When some silvery balls our Áine mined
"Here's the last award, better far than Crufts –
For an all-in-one genius will win Platinum Tufts"
Said Áine (That's our Áine)

Now the digging's done, she can take a rest
With the treasures stored in the Mudcat chest
And the Challenge now is we all take part
Using songs and words, in the best of heart
For Áine (That's our Áine)

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