The Nonsense Rhymes of A. Bootrus Walley

By Anthony Delaney

These rhymes of A. Bootrus Walley are in the spirit of the nonsense poetry and oddball tales of Edward Lear, Shel Silverstein and Edward Gorey. There are ten of them whose narratives and cartoons tell their characters unique stories and adventures. They tell of the consequences of underestimating Ethylred Ethylred by Mr. Prim and Mr. Proper. There’s the odd fate of Mortimer Clive who lies to himself while engaging in his morning shave and the tale of the love struck Ester Twizel. In the Ballad of the Midnight Pearl, the fateful voyage of the bark named Midnight Pearl as told around the glowing hearth of the Blue Pelican Inn, tells an eerie tale of happenings at sea. And what happens to all the lint that swirls in the world? Well, Ordner, Bordner and Bendilay will find the answers when they go in search of The Great Balls of Lint. Besides these five, there are five more waiting to be enjoyed. And what of the rhymes’ author, A. Bootrus Walley? Perhaps the following rhyme describes him best.

There is an odd little man named A. Bootrus Walley
Who writes many rhymes of nonsense and folly.
He swears and be damned his rhymes are all true,
But if you drank what he drinks you’d say so to.

He writes day and night with no heed to his plight,
Writing over and over until he gets it just right.
He feels compelled so what else can he do,
But write them all down because they’re all true.

Some say he’s off, that his mind’s been pickled.
But tell him that and he just gets tickled.
So enjoy his rhymes of nonsense and folly,
And as you do, think kindly of A. Bootrus Walley.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Delaney
• Release date: Mar 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311275615

Anthony Delaney

ANTHONY DELANEY grew up in California. He ran a bank there for six years, lived and worked in the Middle East for eighteen years and retired to the South of France where he lived for three more years. His return to the United States impressed upon him the need to find a focal point for his energies. He tried painting but was disappointed with his efforts. In 2009 he took a job with the Navy Museum in Washington DC where he wrote contracts for their operations. Although he loved his work and the museum, he felt that after two years it was time to move on. Now he lives in the Deep South and has a new point of interest. Always a lover of books, he has decided to learn the self-publishing business. To that end he wrote “The Nonsense Rhymes of A. Bootrus Walley” and "Valvazor and the Glass Mountain." He is working on another A. Bootrus Walley book, a collection of short stories and the thing closest to his heart, a murder mystery set in Champagne and Bordeaux, France.

Book preview

THE NONSENSE RHYMES

OF

A. BOOTRUS WALLEY

As told to

A. E. Delaney

SMASHWORDS EDITION

COPYRIGHT © 2014 ANTHONY DELANEY

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, in part or in whole, or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the express prior written consent of the author.

A. BOOTRUS WALLEY

There is an odd little man named A. Bootrus Walley

Who writes many rhymes of nonsense and folly.

He swears and be damned his rhymes are all true,

But if you drank what he drinks you’d say so to.

He writes day and night with no heed to his plight.

Writing over and over until he gets it just right.

He feels compelled so what else can he do,

But write them all down because they’re all true.

Some say he’s off, that his mind’s been pickled.

But tell him that and he just gets tickled.

So read his rhymes of nonsense and folly,

And as you do think kindly of A. Bootrus Walley.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1. ETHYLRED ETHYLRED

2. LOST WORDS

3. SEARCH FOR THE OOZAL NOOZAL

4. THREE MEN AT A FUNERAL

5. ADDLED ANGST

6. GREAT BALLS OF LINT

7. BALLAD OF THE MIDNIGHT PEARL

8. MORTIMER CLIVE

9. ESTER TWIZEL

10. WORLDLY VIEW

ETHYLRED ETHYLRED

Each morning Ethylred Ethylred sat at the bar drinking his favorite drink.

Raised to his lips he’d take a few sips and make a face like it made him think.

Then he’d say in his jovial way that in the morning nothing else would do,

For mornings are for sweet vinegar and tar and evenings meant for a brew.

Now Ethylred Ethylred it was said, was simply just plain big to some.

He had a round face with freckles, a sweet smile and never seemed glum.

He had curly blond hair with a wild red beard that was ever so frizzly and grizzly,

And he’d been raised by his gentle sweet mum and to her he was always princely.

But no one was sure from whence