Jamp

April 16^th

Today we were tasked to write a Skeltonic, or tumbling, verse. In this form, there’s no specific number of syllables per line, but each line should be short, and should aim to have two or three stressed syllables. The lines should rhyme consistently until the rhyme is exhausted before moving on to another sound.

I wrote the first few lines of this before rising from bed, then took them out of my head, and wrote them here instead.

From Scotland he did jamp,

So, from home he could tramp,

Down the pit lane ramp,

To put on his miner’s lamp.

In the dark where it was damp,

Low tunnels gave him cramp,

As the blast holes he would tamp,

Dust fell upon his vamp.

With the others in his camp,

On the picket-line he did stamp,

When it rained he had no gamp,

The cops called him a bamp,

With jeers, also a famp.

Now he writes his silly lines,

About his time down the mines,

Policemen and their fines.

Or of digging spuds with tines,

And pulling out the bines,

Growing through his tender vines.

On fine words, he now dines

That they don’t serve at Jines,

His plate he fills with lines,

Rhyme and verse are his red wines.

He sometimes thinks and pines,

For the beach they knew at Sines,

And the men he left behind.