Meanwhile, in the Willow Ball Annexe . . .

out o' the sight o' daycent God-fearing fowk, tae the skirrrrrrl o' the pipes, the mair darin' o' Tess's guests cast caution tae the winds an' their claes inti yon big beskit agin the doooooor. Well, wid ye look at that! A' they hussies a' wearin' the exact same dress . . . 

. . . and horror upon horrors!  Wan o' they buirdly lads tellt me yon dance is called "Strip the Willow"

Tess . . . thanks again for the invitation to the 2012 Willow Manor Ball and for all the work you put into organising the weekly Magpies and your comments on our efforts, and please don't let the hoots and halloos from the Annexe spoil the party.

Midnight Snack

Tess Kincaid asks us to write about Midnight Feasts, prompted by Curtis Wilson Costs's 1984 picture "Midnight Snack"

"I Told Them They Were Out of Garlic!"

It dropped from its perch on the rafter
when slumber had silenced their laughter.
It sank in its fangs
to ease hunger's pangs
saying "Mmmm! This is GOOD!
Fresh, warm human blood!"
Then  it gorged on some lamb chops for afters.


            worthwhile

Many more^ responses to the prompt can be found HERE.

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Quack Quack

Tess at Willow Manor offers Jan Steen's 1665 picture "The Sick Woman" for our prompt this week.

The Doctor came.  The Doctor said

"Madam, I think you're quick, not dead.

Are you breathless? How's your heart?

Is it noisy when you fart?

What's the colour of your rheum?

Have you something in your womb?

Does your hair grow straight or curly?

Do you go to bed quite early?

Is there scurf behind your ears?

Do you suffer midnight fears?"

"None of these" replied the wench.

"I've given my left wrist a wrench."

"Schimples!(*) Let's even up your plight!

I'll sprain the one left on the right."

He gave her other wrist a whack,

a truly unprovoked attack.

"Now both sides match you'll feel at ease.

And that's a hundred schillings(*), please."

(*) The Doctor was Austrian, but this fact is not strictly relevant.

Many worthier Magpies can be enjoyed here.

Grumble, Grumble.

Tess calls up one of Francesca Woodman's oddball photographs for our prompt this week.

It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman

"So is this one the fork you say you just dropped?  There's loads of them . . and I'm getting cramp under here.  Look for yer own forks, why not?  Besides, I want me lunch. Some people . . "

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