Phew! I've been getting a bit blogged down, trying to do a
comment to Cowbell's 'thort for Today' ...the Blog-God didn't like it, and I've been grovelling/blundering around in the undergrowth of Lower Blogdom.. any way, here's the start of a group Epic Pome, untitled as yet, documenting the grothe of our likl grouplet.....
A bunch of fokes in East Cleve thought it wd be fun, to weave
wacky sounds and strange beats, with their hands and their feet
And they called themselves Ee by Drum.
At night in Hindywell and Staithes, while foke were at rest in their graves
They'd bash out their rhythms, and try new algorhythms,
These strange folk called Ee by Drum.
Then in summer Two Thousand and Eight, when the mighty Congo was in spate,
They burst on the world, like a new flag unfurled,
The folk they called Ee by Drum.
At Fairs and Duck Races, with smiles on their faces, they spelt out their message of Joy
Other folk soon joined in, like shedding a skin,
and finding brightness and warmth underneath.
They played with a passion, not caring about fashion
They whooped and they screamed in the night,
They cavorted and danced, as if in a trance,
And blogged like people possessed...
