Printable View
My Brother in laws Japanese Grand father went to get his dog registered in the US. As you probably know, Japanese people have trouble saying the letter "R". He came back with a dog tad that read "Crunchy".:?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Crunchy of the overflow just doesn't have the same ring to it.:doh:
:rolleyes: what was it supposed to be, Clancy?
:dQuote:
Originally Posted by ben from vic.
:rofl:
If he was korean I could understand why :rolleyes:
Reminds me of Maxwell Smart and the villan named The Claw, who was suppost to be Japanese.
"The Craw!"
"The Craw?"
"Not Craw, CRAW"
Before PC of course:rolleyes::D
Oh I dunnoQuote:
Originally Posted by tea lady
Crunchy on his wild bush horse
But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, "That horse will never do
For a long a tiring gallop - lad, you'd better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."
So he waited sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend -
"I think we ought to let him come," he said;
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.
</pre>...
When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But crunchy from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.
He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And crunchy from Snowy River never shifted in his seat -
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.
He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With crunchy from Snowy River at their heels.
And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.
And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around The Overflow the reed beds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
And crunchy from Snowy River is a household word today,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.
</pre>
Wheres the other 7 verses Nick? :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Sawdust Maker
:shrug: Got bored with typing? :hmm: :DQuote:
Originally Posted by munruben
Anna If you had said the letter 'l' It would have made sense :DQuote:
Originally Posted by tea lady
Pete