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Literature Text
Dolan's Rest
Is the name of yonder nest,
Otherwise known as Blackpool Tower.
Legends tell it was nearly finished,
By a storm of deadly pow'r.
Solomon Gray saw Dolan McNeill
A' ways up top a' the blasted tower, polishing the brass.
"Get ye down, ye bloomin' oaf! Or ye's goin' t' ride the handsome!"
Well, Dolan was deafer'n a post, so he was. Nor did he listen too well.
So seeing Solomon waving his arms, Dolan told him to go to hell.
Hmmph! thought Solomon, man thinks he's got bark;
We'll see how hard he is, come dark o' the clock!
Well, old Dolan kept a polish'n,
Just a wipin' with his rag.
Tis' better'n listening to my wife nag and nag,
Thought he with a wink and a hearty laugh.
Soon the clouds came racing in,
Like the devil himself was a' whippin' and beatin' 'em.
Yet that stubbr'n old man
Never thought of retreat'n.
The shrieking winds soon tore off his coat,
Though nary a one could put out his smoke.
Ol' Dolan felt too tired to climb,
So he rode a tidal bore
Down like a slide.
Most of the coast from Grange-over-Sands
Was fearfully strok'd clear to Lytham Saint-Annes.
But shinin' bright amid the twistn' and snarls,
Stood Blackpool Tower with all of her flowers.
So ends the tale of Dolan's Rest.
Is the name of yonder nest,
Otherwise known as Blackpool Tower.
Legends tell it was nearly finished,
By a storm of deadly pow'r.
Solomon Gray saw Dolan McNeill
A' ways up top a' the blasted tower, polishing the brass.
"Get ye down, ye bloomin' oaf! Or ye's goin' t' ride the handsome!"
Well, Dolan was deafer'n a post, so he was. Nor did he listen too well.
So seeing Solomon waving his arms, Dolan told him to go to hell.
Hmmph! thought Solomon, man thinks he's got bark;
We'll see how hard he is, come dark o' the clock!
Well, old Dolan kept a polish'n,
Just a wipin' with his rag.
Tis' better'n listening to my wife nag and nag,
Thought he with a wink and a hearty laugh.
Soon the clouds came racing in,
Like the devil himself was a' whippin' and beatin' 'em.
Yet that stubbr'n old man
Never thought of retreat'n.
The shrieking winds soon tore off his coat,
Though nary a one could put out his smoke.
Ol' Dolan felt too tired to climb,
So he rode a tidal bore
Down like a slide.
Most of the coast from Grange-over-Sands
Was fearfully strok'd clear to Lytham Saint-Annes.
But shinin' bright amid the twistn' and snarls,
Stood Blackpool Tower with all of her flowers.
So ends the tale of Dolan's Rest.
This piece was written for the:
Credit for the inspiration of this piece goes to for his excellent photo:
Thank you, sir!
All Rights Reserved.
Comments appreciated.
FotoFriday: The Clock TowerWelcome to our eleventh FotoFriday session at #CRLiterature!hosted by our friends at
Several months ago, we relaunched FotoFriday at #CRLiterature, and here's the next installment. Last week, ^neurotype gave us this image as a prompt:
And here are the pieces inspired by that image:
Please be kind enough to share your thoughts and comments (maybe even favorite if you like their work). They've posted their work for the world to see, and we thank them for getting involved!
How does FotoFriday Work?
Every other Friday we will post a photograph from a deviant's gallery that we find intriguing and interesting. Using this photograph as a prompt, you are encouraged to write something—anything—b
Credit for the inspiration of this piece goes to for his excellent photo:
Thank you, sir!
All Rights Reserved.
Comments appreciated.
© 2013 - 2024 Blacksand459
Comments2
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I really like this part:
Hmmph! thought Solomon, man thinks he's got bark;
We'll see how hard he is, come dark o' the clock!
Hmmph! thought Solomon, man thinks he's got bark;
We'll see how hard he is, come dark o' the clock!