Tags
batty fang, conversations with imaginary sisters, mafficking, nanty narking, newfoundland, poem, Poetry, sonnet, the morbs
Don’t mind snow, you know. If it’s for a good
cause. If it’s falling on our snug cottage
perched on a ridge; if there’s auks and driftwood
strewn on the beach below. My sea village
slang needs work, but when “the morbs” come, all bleak
and glum, then I’ll “batty fang” through crusting
tide pool slush. I was made for fleecy chic
sweaters, flip caps, “tempest nanty narking.”
I, too, shall sing up a “mafficking” storm.
Squall songs that my sea hag sisters shall hurl
back. There’s more here than just hoarfrost and snow,
you know. I’ll sing them to you over warm
mugs of tea, cats on our laps, the whole world
ahoo outside our welcoming window.
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NOTES:
In Victorian British slang, “the morbs,” means being depressed or sad. “Batty fang,” “natty narking,” and “mafficking,” are all 1880 terms for causing a rowdy (and usually drunken) disturbance while out in public. In nautical slang, when something has gone, “all ahoo,” it means things are disordered or chaotic.