This is a song that The Hare has composed in collaboration with Clint Mansell, in honour of Peters everywhere. If you are a Peter, feel free to add a verse in the comments field, and/or adopt it as your personal Anthem.
(to be played on ukulele, drums and accordion)
Peter,
Peter,
like a brook or a river?
Born on a Tuesday,
To a mother -
never sweeter.
Some housekeeping matters to attend to -
BooToWitches:
Endlessly has posted his response to the Warne’s Miscellany entry on Cheesecake. Which is just as well because that particular page is missing from The Hare’s copy. Follow Endlessly, for Truth and Guidance.
I saw a book in a bookshop yesterday. It was The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. I only flicked through the first three pages. I didn’t particularly take to what I skim-read, and didn’t purchase the book, but it seems like something The Hare might approve of.
The man in the photo is called Peter.
Nope…my name isn’t Peter-
but I’m an Anita who doesn’t follow the rules.
That makes me mildly entertaining at times
peter the hare
this is ummm, peter the uh…bear,
yeah, peter the bear,
just saying i have much enjoyed your bog, and also, your friends the poets/writers blogs that are on your blogroll list (especially red on the snow and non skweeter, and muttering lydia)
i imagine you getting together on various occasions for crumpets and carrots to cheer each other on. if this is not true i don’t want to know.
so, peter the bear dons his hat at peter the hare and says
thanks for the read.
in peters we trust
VOUS éTES QUI????
JE MAPEL COMMANT
Pierre? Mon frère? et le hare?…er..c’est un lapin, mais plus mystérieux. voyons… “les lièvres”.
je mappel pierre? commant tu t’appelle?
(J’aime des croissants)
The site looks great ! Thanks for all your help ( past, present and future !)
Er…what help? The Hare *does* have a habit of accidently helping people. He would never do it on purpose.
I couldn’t believe I was latching these dirty, canted parks about my amazonian son.
Neither could I! Isn’t that naked? Spread on a golden hammock in the moonlight of Sunday, like my family once where, and they are more friends than enemies! Play the oboe, tall and long like my amazonian son did! With Jellyroll and trumpet-lillies.
What do you make of that, fine sorcerer? Find the source and dwell in it like a cave!
She sainted to marvel up marvelous the stubborn day, purely they got to misconception by eleven.
Hey very nice blog!!….I’m an instant fan, I have bookmarked you and I’ll be checking back on a regular….See ya
I’m Out!