The Let's Play Archive

Oregon Trail

by Chewbot

Part 21: Just a casual notice here.

Just a casual notice here.

If anybody wanted to, for example, write a haiku poem about what the Neckebards should do, I'd count it as two votes. I'll still count non-haiku votes, of course. No pressure.

Why would you do this, Chewbot?

Think about it. What's more ridiculous than dozens of internet strangers voting on the river-crossing status of a fictional family based on an educational game that was created 30 years ago? Haiku about it.

EDIT: the only logical thing to do is save them here for posterity. All 10 million of them.

Moon shines on river
Cyrus knows not what to do
Get help from Big Chief

Paper Tiger
Ford ford ford ford ford
Ford ford ford ford ford ford ford
Ford ford ford ford ford

you must ford ahead
drown those stupid brit oxen
lol ford ford

Mistress Bella
You know what, Chewbot?
This idea was really good.

7thBatallion did a hell of a lot more than this one!
Cyrus looks around
He knows what he must now do
He will float this bitch.

Yankees chasing fast,
Natives are our friend, not Yank's,
Help us cross river

Oh no! A River!
Whatever shall we do now?
Let's caulk the fucker.

Quid hates haikus but did one anyway!
The baby is dead
I voted more would be too
So ford the river

Moai Ou
To ford is to die.
Please consider the oxen.
Caulking will save them.

dshban forgot that he won't get any prizes even if he wins!
Fording, we must do
It is the best solution
I want the prizes

To Ford a river
Is noble indeed, so thus
Onward, they shall go!

And to write this way
Is more fun for it doth need
Some careful thinking

Rather than normal
Posting what words vomit forth
From the fingertips.

So ford ford ford ford
A fording we shall go hey!
Ford away, away!

Why do so many
vote for floating the wagon
To ford yields laughter.

Playing this for real
Is such a silly belief
Let them die as one

Heap big wampum will
Hire injun guide for these folk
Sarah Jane must die

Recursive posted this along with a picture of Ford Prefect!
river obstacle
path to riches lie beyond
but one solution...

Dear Chewbot, I plead
Do not kill them all just yet.
Caulk the Wagon. Float!

The Neckebards must float
like a butterfly and sting
like a floating thing

You must not forget
About that pesky Waffle
incident. Float it!

This is another
haiku in order to get
Cyrus to caulk it

Anticheese voted for caulking, I think.
I think its clear now
What we readers are asking
I for one vote caulk

I cannot sleep now
Too many awful haikus
Floating in my head

I still vote we caulk
I'm just posting this for fun
4'th is my favourite.

You know what they say
Tradition means we must ford
We must drown them all!

Who needs to buy food?
Kill the rest of the family!
Hundred pounds of meat.

Hire chief Big-Horn
Help him reclaim stolen land
Set up casino

Start your life again
Join red man. Get a new name.
Dances with poodles.

Sell your family
Pay for a ferry ticket.
Better than drowning.

Why bother with this?
Turn around and go home now.
Nothing to see here.

Kill a buffalo.
Then kill its entire herd.
Violla! Meaty bridge!

You must be quite bored
Standing around there waiting
Go fishing instead.

Some will say ford it
Others will start screaming "caulk!"
I say go fishing.

If you take reds help
He will push you overboard
Swim with the fishes.

Can everyone swim?
Yeah, I didin't think so to
Here, have some more caulk.

Regular ferry
Not really reliable
Time to make your own.

The banker is rich
Also quite greedy as well
Don't share anything

Time and time again we goons have had requests
Almost always to ford the river
Use the caulk, its for the best
The thought of drowning makes Cyrus shiver

That form of poem
I have never done before
How crappy is it?

You know who also
Despises Yankee soldiers?
Big Chief River Guide

River wide and deep
No ferry, only native
Make our own ferry!

Demon Allie
Indians or float
After baby my heart is
Too weak to stand death

I didn't vote on who
Would live or die on the trail
I'm far too lazy

But not too lazy
To write several short haikus
About crossing streams

Big Chief River Guide
Could be an interesting
Character/plot point

Afterwards we should
Totally chaulk that mofo
And float to safety

Fuck it's late, tired
Counting syllables on my
fingers all night long

Wild M
I did vote last page
But let's add the second vote
Get that Indian

The river is wide,
oxen do not swim so good.
Incredible Hulk.

Why hasten the neckbeards?
Truly, time can but improve
I say: wait! Be well.

My God! You are fools!
Only time can give them
some respite from trials.

Wait for the baby!
If he is now a zombie,
he is not fast on feet.

Nice job there wise guy
You: "Let us take the scenic route!"
Do not mess up. Wait.

Want to see baby again?
Then ford or chaulk that river.
You will die either way.

A Curvy Goonette
hire the guide, he is
using the white mans money
against them in war

Not So Fast
The deep flood rises,
Cascading water flows,
Drifts to escape death.

Keyboard Fox doesn't vote but still wins!
Why am I still here
I should be leaving by now
LP makes me late

In emergencies,
Your wagon may be used for
Flotation. Caulk it.

Hire the Indian
East India Company
Will soon rise again

Clueless Tuquee
Look out for Yankees
The traitors want you to ford
Caulk save the Queen, bitch.

Caulk caulk float float caulk
Caulk float float caulk float caulk caulk
Caulk caulk float caulk float

NattyBumppo votes for fording in crazy!
(The neckbearded family, fording at the shallows? I wonder.)

Lord Fancington
Floating is the way,
For Neckebards to get their pay.
Caulk and Float today!

This top notch LP,
must not die on these shallows,
like many before.

Muscle Tracer
Cyrus labors long
Amongst the dysentary
To gunkify cracks

If you eat the caulk
It will poison you, or, worse,
you might suffocate

Everybody knows
Fording rivers is great fun
Ford on, goons, ford on.

Zeryn opts for iambic pentameter!
I do not understand this eastern look,
When what we seek to do is journey west.
And so, as we come to this fateful brook,
In longer western form is my request.

Trying to ford the river is a choice,
That is, if you have oxen that can swim.
But this will hardly lead us to rejoice,
When the next post we read is short and grim.

Others may think that the wagon will float,
But this is not the time for foolish talk,
Lack of skill and no time will make that boat
Only end in tears and necrotic caulk.

Therefore, if from pursuit they have to hide,
You must of course hire the native guide.

I suck at Haiku
But I still want my two votes
So I will vote caulk

slowbeef sort of wrote one! Wait a second, SLOWBEEF wrote a poem for an Oregon Trail LP?!
Why are you assholes
Not recommending that we
Ask the motherfucking indian for help I mean come on it's obvious I know some of you are but this caulk and ford shit is bull.

to put it simply
the Indian is a spy
caulk and float is best

Gulping Again goes free-verse on us!
The Neckebards' sufferings may never end.
Catastrophe and Plague stalk their path,
Lurking in the dark shadows, waiting to strike.
Why add to their troubles? Their tribulations are numerous enough!
Minutemen, dysentery, injuries, infections, maladies and madness!
All is filth and all is hate, The ten thousand curses have crushed their humanity!
Lo, why should they tempt cruel fate?
Destruction rides to them on wings swift enough!
Go to the man in God, follow his words.
Let the natives of the New World guide you onward!
No friend of the colonists is he, nay!
The noble redman shall show you the greatest charity he can give,
he will show you a safe path! One unknown to the white man!
There you can rest! There you must recover!
The journey to the west continues yet still,
do not fail to prepare for the worst that may happen,
for it, by all indications, undoubtedly will.

Bellagio Sampler
Lotus blossom falls
Oxen turn amid their flight

Ask the Indian
He gets Susan's attention
New redskin Baby

Slaughtermelon opts for a limerick!
Pa Neckebard gave a shiver,
When faced with crossing a river.
They had a word,
And decided they'd ford,
And flooded the family flivver.

To ford is to die.
Although very amusing,
we cannot stop now.

For what would the quest,
along the Oregon Trail,
be with such an end?

We have come to far.
We will soon be at our end.
So we must survive.

And to survive, how?
There is but a single way.
We must caulk that bitch.

Caulk and float that river.
Live to kill Yankees again.
Be sure not to ford.

Oh, come on the swift
water isn't really deep,
just drive right across.

mastajake changed his vote from "wait"
I take back my vote
To wait for the time to pass
Just ask Indian

Army of meat is awesome.
Float this boat down The river. Uness ya'll \_ _/ are wanting the family ** to drown. Fording can [ \___ often be funny, but unnecessary \ \ for 'em. |____|\ So go if be | | you ass.

The native man knows,
How best to cross the river.
Take his advice now.

Shavnir made some scribbles, too!

The cold wind
the large river is scary

Chased in hot pursuit
Tomahawk hits Yankee skull
Hire a native

Why keep Cyrus'
soon-to-be relic dollars?
Give them to a brave.

The White Dragon
the wagon is caulk
the rivers swallows it whole
my thoughts are the cloud

Muscle Tracer posted some emo poetry on Sarah Jane's behalf!
Sarah Jane posted:
I sit in agony
My wordless apathy-
grows. They sit
in agony, their wordy apathy-

A river looms far on the
horizon. My agony grows,
Their sadism shows.
I will get wet
I will get wet
I will get wet
I will get wet
I will get wet.

R.C. Pro Am Porn
The native man knows
How the big river will flow
Give him more money

Captain Novolin
The wagon must float
For there is no other way
To properly cross.

We could lose clothing.
I'd rather lose sarah jane.
No caulking, you cocks.

Brasstassels votes in Alighieri-style!
Midway upon the path of the family
They find themselves upon a riverbank,
And now a prompt decision must be made.

To ford, caulk, or ask a friendly native?
The answer will surely decide their fate.
So, while pursuit nears, the Neckebards think.

Fording is the hastiest solution.
Although dangerous, the Yanks are far worse.
Is speed worth the risk of death and sinking?

To caulk and float, another easy choice.
However, sealing the wagon takes time.
The enemy will surely interrupt.

The final solution: asking for help.
An indian would know the waters well,
And for extra payment, would work quickly.

Thus, the solution becomes clear to them.
For guaranteed safety and needed speed,
A native guide. For freedom and justice!

You should hire the guide.
Think of what fun we could have,
making up his name!

Goons will always ford.
This whole thread has been unique!
Why should it stop now?

Who What Now doesn't need no stinkin' haikus! (until later)
We followed this family down the trail,
Through thick and thin and hell,
Through rain, sleet, bodies and hail,
I think it's all gone quite well.

But now we've come to an impasse,
To go bold, float, or wait and hide.
I will see the Neckebards suffer no sass,
As they ask the humble Indian guide.

So heed these words, you who travel!
To go alone is surely to die,
And all your hard work to unravel.
Plus, I hear the Indian has pie.

I'm dead serious,
All else leads to certain doom.
Indian Guide, Yeah!

This vote does not count
Mine is already tallied
But I cannot stop

The count is not done!
He said temporary, he did.
Haiku, man, Haiku!

goatface bastardizes our childhoods!
The terrible thing about rivers
Is rivers are terrible things
Their tops are made out of water
Who knows what the underside brings
They're creepy, weepy, you cant sleepy
Doom, doom, doom, doom, DOOM!
But the most terrible thing about rivers
Is you'll have a watery tomb.


Violent days
Sweepin' the blood away
On my way to where it's not shitty

Can you tell me how to find
How to find Oregon City

Run away,
Everything's not okay
Yankee soldiers there
with no pity.

Can you tell me how to find
How to find Oregon City

It's a fleeing wagon ride
Shit from disease all inside
To weary people like you
Sickened people like
What a horrific

Blood soaked day
Weeping the hours away
On my way to where the it's not shitty

Can you tell me how find
How to find Oregon City...

Honor the great Ford
A truly great man indeed
'cept the Nazi thing

Casull has a potty mouth!
Motherfucking fuck
Caulk that bitch and float, God damn
I swear too damn much

That's the way it always was
In the past, it's true.

So we do not die,
We must listen to our friend
Who is not Gandhi.

He's a different type
Of Indian, but he will still
Lead us to glory.

Gummy Joe feels a little Chauncer-y!
And now: Middle English!

Whan that Aprille, with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

Whan Susan hath the langour in twine
And Cyrus doth drem of clergial bovine,
Whan at thine carre nikers doth threaten,
And thees londisse (native) thou can not lipnen
Than whan thee pitalle doth to the flum lende
Forsooth, by the sonne, shall thy caulk to thine ende.

Number 36 admits to having a lot of free time!
The family Neckebard travels on,
Leaving death in their wake.
From morality they break,
their moral values all but gone.

Sara Jane screams dusk till dawn,
Waffles bitten by a snake.
They come across a deepened lake,
it shall be crushed beneath their brawn.

The oxen bravely carry forth,
the goons commandeth that they ford.
Plunge them all beneath, none spared!

Send their souls back to the Lord.
Mama, Pa, Sis, Bro is fourth,
None shall survive, lest they prepared.

Big Chief River Guide
Knows how to wrestle serpents
Pay him to help us

gardenald continues the arms race on obscure poetry!
And here's in the style of Robbie Burns:

Ha! Whar ye goun, ye scowlin' wonner?
Think ye ta ford tha blastit river?
An' ye are nae a blessit swimmer,
An' neith'r your oxen.
T' ford in sic a place
defies contemplation!

Nae, caulk an' float it ye must do,
Yer lass n' kin will see ye through,
An' then th' ither side will soon
find ye standin'
So long as ye ken ox dung is nae caulk,
Ye'll float amazin'.

Admiral Pi probably gambles a lot!
Paying Indians
Solves all problems in the world,
including rivers.

RedMagus writes something that makes no sense to me!
Altho now dead
Remember Baby
and clean shaved face
Now Ford
that river

Ask the Indian,
Whoops, Native American
To show the true path

He may ask for goods,
But it's a lot better than
Losing poker chips

Safety paramount
Trust in your own potent caulk
Floating is the way

Would my vote still count
Or have I waited too long?
Fucking ford that bitch.

Ask this person here
for help crossing the river
Hope I'm not too late

Fucking ford river
How else must I write this shit?
River you ford must

demota's friend
Lewis and Clark made
American Tradition
Injun point the way

Ford for great success!
It is the most efficient
way to cross rivers!

Random Hajile
They all float down here.
When you're down here, you'll float too.
Pennywise knows best.

There is not a need
Only rebels and nancies
Would float a wagon

Surprised at results,
Cyrus will seek out a guide
ending the cliche

This is about the point where I lose complete control over this thread. Proceed with caution.

bagatelle thief
The votes are tallied.
No more haikus necessary.
Yet we continue.

We must continue
This discussion in haiku.
PS: no doubt--CAULK.

Lord Fancington
A call to all Goons:
Vote caulk-and-float like a boat
To make history!

This is my second.
Yes, but yours could be your first.
Hey, we need this guys.

Lurkers exit woodwork,
And put us over the top.
We know what will win.

voted to ford
Second vote haiku right here
Ford that damn river.

You should not ford it
Caulk the wagon instead please
Next update time now?

Cato always said
Carthago Delenda Est
Latin for 'Ford it'

This LP will fail
Unless we ford a river
What's wrong with you folks?

the skeep
caulk caulk your wagon.
Gently down the river cross.
don't ford the river.

Everyone but Chewbot
Will only in haiku speak now;
Total posts decline.

Why would you do that?
I can't bare to see this crap
I hate you Drox, God!

Der Metzgermeister
Jesus Christ above!
Can't you people see that caulk
is the gayest choice?

We must, in fact, ford,
Oxen plowing fields of blue
As we ride behind!

About the wager
I sure hope someone does die
When river fording.

New Mornin' Cornin'
Tasty. Delicious. Awesome.
$1.99 in stores.

Gummy Joe
OH GOD I CAN'T STOP! Time to piss on Homer's grave!

Sing, O goddess, the anger of Waffles, son of, wait, I mean, Sterling, that
brought countless ills upon the Neckebeards. Many a brave soul did
them send hurrying west to Oregon, and many a dilapidated wilderness did it yield as
prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Chewbot
fulfilled from the day on which that sonnuva' gun Cyrus, king of Revenge Meat,
and great Waffles, first fell out with one another.

can't understand
Why so many wish to choose
The safe boring caulk

This is for science!
Fording is true bravery
We may die but still

An LP is not
About life and sunshine and
Other happy things

It's for suffering
Pain, death, and true misery
So fording is best.

And now, a new form!
Shall be brought forth for speaking
Thus born, Limerick!

I do not see why we cannot ford
Watching a wagon float makes me really bored
All of you who want to caulk
I strongly wish to mock
Wanting to win is a silly goal to work toward!

This LP, after all, is for Treachery and Plague
So let's break their spirits like an egg
Stop giving them false hopes
have them act likes true dopes
And your votes for caulks and guides, please renege.

Yes, some or all will almost certainly die
But on the urge to safety, say I : Fie!
The drama is fun
And when we are done
It's more fun if in the ground they all lie.

Now what is the best way to ensure this?
Fording! It has the great chance to go amiss
We'd love for Sarah Jane to finally drown
Cyrus shot dead, Susan perishing in her gown,
And what shall Waffles hear last? A water viper's evil hiss!

Decisions abound
In Oregon Trail Let's Play
Vote Indian Guide

gul banana
the ancient wisdom
the sorrowful present day:
an indian guide

The Indian is fake!
His spaghetti is showing
Really an italian.

Bob Smith
Triolet: To a Wagon Train Approaching a Six Foot River:

When river approaches
And weather is cold
True American Coaches
Don't take nice approaches
They're strong and they're bold
They look out for gold


Alternatively, take the advice of Martinus Scriblerus, in his little known On Approaching a Six Foot River:

Two women, a man and a couple of boys,
Did set out for life on the OREGON TRAIL
Mad angry they were and doomed to fail.
First there was CYRUS of the beard of the neck
And SUSAN his harlot unashamed of her sex.
Then SARAH and WAFFLES and the BABY too,
And four British Oxen in two pairs of two.
CORN was their meat in the morning and night
And their guns used for hunting and then in a fight.
Not DYSENTRY, TYPHOID or Venus' disease,
Could stop them from doing whatsoever they please.
At a fort near a river, a STARTLING SURPRISE,
Both SUSAN and WAFFLES were actually SPIES,
For Her Majesty's Gov'ment, and GRUB STREET as well,
This poor misled SCRIBBLER has more tale to tell.
And now there's a river full SIX FOOT in depth,
And double or more that in terms of breadth.
Advice it is folly to ask from these men,
For FORDING and CAULKING is all that they ken.
But a SCRIBBLER like me or the good Dr. Swift,
Knows a native or two will not give them SHORT SHRIFT.
And with this I present it, an argument clear,
Trust not your brothers, but instead those you fear.
For who would not love to see SARAH JANE live?
Since BABY is dead what more woe can GOD give?
And SUSAN has been sick although why is in doubt,
Perhaps it will teach her to not shed her clout.
The YANKEES do chase them these Neckebard clan,
And will bullets still save them from a 'Merican?
True BRITISH steel forged with the heart of John BULL,
Could go long ways to help them come one or come all.
So listen to me if thou willst live this through,
VIOLENCE is vital but you must have a CLUE,
And CAUTION and CARE when a RIVER is near,
Then when YANKEES attack you need never fear.
For MOSES himself back in times of Pharoah,
Did part WATER before him, not FORD to a man.
And the EGYPTIAN blaggards who CHASED him and them,
Did follies suffer when FORDING again.

If things keep going
like this, there'll be a sonnet
before this page ends

Fourteen lines and rhymes,
Iambic pentameter,
Check out page twenty!

Edit: C'mon y'all,
Do you want them all to die?
Hire Injun Joe!

HBar writes an OT-flavored tribute to Poe!
Once upon a trailside dreary, Cyrus pondered weak and weary,
Over many a rank and fetid dropping crusted 'pon the wagon floor,
While he sharted, nearly crapping, suddenly there came a snapping,
As if someone was fur trapping, trapping on the distant shore.
"Tis some indian", he muttered, "trapping on the distant shore -
Only this, and nothing more."

Indistinctly, barely sober, he thought 'twas the bleak October,
And each separate family member could now hear the river's roar.
Eagerly he wished to cross it. The wagon, he could not loss it,
For the rapids well could toss it, and never again, he swore,
Like his heir the nameless infant begat from womb of cheating whore,
Nameless now forevermore.

As their oxen neared the impasse, rustling in the dewy tall grass
thrilled them - filled them with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the bleating, Cy exited to hostile greeting
"Tis some indian entreating entrance to our wagon's store -
Some armed indian entreating entrance to our wagon's store."
"That it is, stay on the floor."

Presently he took some money; Waffles looking at him funny,
"Brave", said he, "or Big Chief, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, we need guidance, barring this river's subsidence,
And you know this river's expanse, know it well from shore to shore,
So I hope that you might help us" - here Susan rose from the floor -
Wielding shotguns, both smoothbore.

Deep into those barrels peering, long the brave stood wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming if he could get off his shot first, not her, before
But the silence here was broken, Susan's left gun now had spoken,
And though the brave kept his tokens, his right hand by buckshot tore,
His gun lay shattered, while Neckebards pulled him 'pon the wagon floor.
Weakly he pointed to shore.

Irish Thunder
Caulkin' is the way
that a true Neckebard plays
on dysentery

Don't know how to cross?
If depth exceeds your crotch height
Fording equals doom

Bob Smith
The potential for
Parody of Dressing Room
Is most amazing.

Think of malaises
Affecting Susan and Baby
Then think of poem.

But I have standards
Will not make easy humour
It's sick anyway.

I am glad to see
more love for our native friend.
Think of what we'll get!

Instead of trade goods
perhaps our Susan will use
her feminine wiles.

Think of all the rage!
Think of all the fun we'll have!
Think of revenge meat!

Why do I write this?
I gave my entry already.
I like haiku, non?

Muscle Tracer on Charge of the Light Brigade!
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league deep,
All in the River of Death
Rode the four settlers.
"Forward, the Oregon Trail!
"Charge for the gold!" he said:
Into the River of Death
Drove the six hundred.

"Forward, the Oregon Trail!"
Was there a girl dismay'd?
Yes, as the woman knew
Cyrus had blunder'd:
Hers is not to make reply,
Hers is not to reason why,
Hers is but to do or die:
Into the River of Death
Ford the five settlers.

Injuns to right of them,
Ferries to left of them,
Dry shore in front of them
Sobbing and screaming;
Dread protests doth Sarah yell,
Meekly did she cower well,
Into the tides of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the five settlers.

Flash'd all their 'venge meat bare,
Flash'd as they changed water for air,
Fighting at the torrents there,
Charging the rapids, while
The ferry-man wonder'd:
Plunged though loosing guns and spokes
Right thro' the stream they broke;
Oxford and Winston
Reel'd in their breaking yoke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Still they rode on, but not
All five settlers.

Injuns to right of them,
Ferries to left of them,
Waffles behind them
Screamed as he floundered;
Dreading death he wept and yelled,
While Cyrus and Susan fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the Tides of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of five settlers.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
The ferryman wondered.
Honor the ford that fai,led
Honor the Oregon Trail,
Noble five settlers.

Like Lewis and Clark
The Indian can help us
Follow his advice

Mindbleach wrote a tercet!
Midway upon the journey to Oregon
I found myself beside a great river,
With all reason and sanity in my life long gone.

How high the hot sun rose a-shimmer
Upon our dwindling party's savage path.
Our oxen still as death, not a snake dared slither.

What cruel calculus, what hell-borne math
Had mapped the path of our wagon,
That we confused four should bear such undue wrath?

In this misplaced summer day we considered
What scant options our fates had left for us:
An indian, ten pounds of caulk, and a waterlogged road.

We hemmed and hawed, we reasoned thus:
The wagon's wheels were no ships' hulls.
So in sealant or this quiet native we would have to trust.

The oxen would push our wagon to the full,
Their weight and hooves sure to overload.
We would trust this able tribesman... oh, how we we gullible!

We need more drama
Sarah Jane must go crazy
Indian elope!

This is not vote change
However, incorporate
Him into story

decided i don't
want all the neckebards to die
so caulk that shit up

This is the way the thread ends
This is the way the thread ends
This is the way the thread ends
Not with a caulking but a fording.

Snot Man
The proud Neckebard clan
Asks an Indian for help
Looks reliable

Bob Smith is actually a robot. A robot poet.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Deep River, aka FUCK VILLANELLES.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Deep River
For our Wagon canst not stand its watery grave
Ask, Ask that sagely native guide.

For wise men who know the Oregon Trail
Would never ford a river six feet deep
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Deep River.

Mad men would caulk it and sink into the depths,
Sarah Jane would never be the same.
Ask, Ask that sagely native guide.

It would be folly to do aught but ask.
Caulking and floating or fording would fail.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Deep River.

Wise men, near their goal, would ask a guide
They would not risk their clocks or their corn.
Ask, Ask that sagely native guide.

And think of Waffles as he sits alone.
His father dead, his mother cold as stone.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Deep River.
Ask, Ask that sagely native guide.

Padriag has created an epic of epic proportions
The Love Song of Cyrus J. Neckebeard Part 1

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like Baby motionless upon a table;
Let us go, through disease ridden trails,
Where bowel control fails
With restless nights of wagon induced hells,
Susan deftly avoiding soldiers' shells:
Not to mention the heinous waffle incident,
Denied to us with much lament.
River leads to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, "Shall we caulk it?"
Let us go and make them ford it.

In the thread the goons come and post
Aiding Chewbot, our gracious host.

The feces stench that wafts its way up to the Oxen-reigns
The feces stench that rubs into the muzzle causing Oxen-pains
Licked its tongue into the corners of the wagon
Emanated from the pools of Baby's bowel drains.
He let drip upon the floor the shit that falls from dysenteries,
Slipped from the wagon, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft September night,
Baby perceived his family, and fell dead in a heap.

And indeed there will be time
For the families journey to be made complete,
As water engulfs the oxen-reigns;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a post with the glory of revenge meat;
There will be time to ford them to their fate,
And time for Waffles' explanations;
Think of the goons whose questions you will sate!
Time for you to ford with glee,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
As Susan drowns alongside her tea.

In the thread the goons come and post
Aiding Chewbot, our gracious host.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I ford?" and, "Will I dare?"
Time to hold off and stay above air,
To let Susan fuck strangers without a care-
[They will say: "How his wife just lets them in!"]
My fur coat, my beard-collar reaching only to the chin,
My neckbeard rich and modest, but asserted without a grin-
[They will say: "But his neckbeard is far from thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a post there is time
For decisions and revisions which a new post cannot reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all;
Have known caulkings take up whole afternoons,
I have written out my life to appease goons;
I know the voices of them dying will please all
Beneath the water without further gloom.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all-
The Indian eyes that fix you in an icy gaze,
And when I hire him for help, offering some gin,
When he is ginned and slumping along the wall,
Then how should I begin
To go sober for the rest of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all-
Arms that are held by soldiers with great care
[But, against Susan, do not so well fair!]
Is it stench from this mess
That makes me so digress?
Arms that want, dearly, for us to wait, or not cross at all.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

The Love Song of Cyrus J. Neckebeard Part 2

. . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through rugged trails
And watched the shit ooze from Baby's pipes,
And been a cuckold man, with neckbeard, in a wagon?...
I shall soon be with a pair of oxen
Scuttling across the floor of Snake River.
. . . . .

And waffles, and pig-Sarah, sleep now so peacefully!
Disease there still lingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Spilled on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after shit but before the ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and sighed, wept and imbibed,
Though I have seen my neck (grown with hair) victim to vomit splatters,
I am no caulker-and here's where it matters;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen Matt the salesman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I will now ford!

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the snakes, dysentery, the tea,
Among the men she's lain, among talk of Susan and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the caulking into the gaps all
To float it toward some Oregonian destination,
To say: "I am Cyrus, fording the dead,
Come back to ford you all, I shall ford you all"
If Susan, denying him his own bed,
Should say, "Only a cuckold could have such gall.
Fording with fury consuming all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the waffles and revenge meat and the defiled trails,
After the spying, after the tea, after the soldiers gushing resplendent gore-
But still, she's a whore!-
If we ford it'll show that bitch just what I mean!
If we drown in the mighty river will we be washed of our sins?
Would it have been worth while
If Susan, with frigid river waters filling lungs all,
And drowning in the wagon, should say:
"You're more man than them all,
They lack such fortitude of ball."
. . . . .

No! I am not in Oregon, nor was meant to be;
Am a cuckold husband, one that will do
To swell the river an inch or two,
Drown the fam'ly; no doubt, awesome and cool,
Intoxicated, glad to give abuse,
Enraged, and with neckbeard truly splendorous;
Full of liquor, putting it to proper use;
At times, of drunkenness ridiculous-
Almost, at times, I drool.

I grow bold... I grow bold...
I shall feel the bottom of the river cold.

Shall I leave the caulk behind? Do I dare a lesson teach?
I shall drive the oxen forward, and wash up on the beach.
I have heard river trout singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding westward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We will have lingered before the river long,
With pig-girl, waffles, whore and baby shit brown,
Till goon voices drive us, and we drown.

Paper Tiger
Rockslide of haiku
The avalanche has started
Pebbles cannot vote

Shit what have I done
I quoted Babylon 5
Goons please kill me now

Keyboard Fox
Damn you now for I
Cannot stop writing the
Haikus now

Zutaten points out that haikus have started leaking into innocent stranger's threads!
Good God it has spread!
You people and your haiku
have ruined this place!

EDIT: Sweet Jesus!
They're in the SimAnt thread too!
Chewbot, I blame you!

Captain Novolin
We are being used
For sick haiku fantasies
This must stop right now!

rex rabdiorum vires
these haiku are cool
silly goons and their english
chewbot ford that thing

Clueless Tuquee
Why are the haikus
Leaking into the forum?
This thread needs some caulk.

Let's Play Subforum
I weep for thee, alas you
drown in sweet Haiku

Der Metzgermeister
You've brought down a plague
Upon the heads of us all.
You have wrought our doom.

Edit: I notice
There have been four and a half
Pages of haiku.

I was gonna vote
But voting has ended, crap.
My option won though.

There is no fording?
I am posting thus in vain.
But I wanted in.

I hoped for fording
for running gags, pinnacle,
Interweb Humor.

Alas! It's a trick!
The Indian will just ditch
When you're halfway there.

A bandit came forth,
And then stole it all from me.
All my revenge meat.