A Few poems by Murph:

An Ode To Nostromo

Charlie loves the mine,
Emilia loves C.
Dr. M. loves the bottle,
Decoud loves liberty.

Several armies fight --
Which is which we cannot tell,
Charlie says he’ll blow his mine
Off to bloody hell.

Nostromo needs forgiveness,
Antonia needs braces,
All of them in Costaguana
Come off as basket cases.

Give me Thomas Birkin,
Give me Valmont jeweled,
Give me Fitzie Darcy,
You can keep your Charlie Gould!



Avast, me hearties!
Bring the guns out now,
A battle's brewing
Over Femme Fatale.

It wasn't his best, and
It didn't always make sense
But I'm one of those people
Who loved Joe Prince.

Loyal and faithful,
Sweet as a bun,
He loved several women
Though they were all really one.

We should be so lucky
To find someone like Joe.
He's kind to moths,
And he dances-- sigh -- slow.


Our Rai Mechem (may her tribe increase)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight of her room,
In turbaned head and red pantaloons,
An Angel writing in a book of gold.

Exceeding peace made our Rai bold,
And to the Presence in the room she said,
"What writest thou?" The vision raised his head,
And with a look of merry jest
Answered, "The names of those who love me best."

"And is mine one?" said Rai. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the Angel. Rai spoke more low,
But cheekily still; and said, (with cool)
"Then write me as one who loves her Sewell -
And Jer, and Rafe and Tim the tall,
And Ciar, Harri, Junior - I love them all."

The Angel frowned, wrote and vanished. The next night
He came again with a great awakening light,
And riding his bike around the room
With kohl-lined eyes and those pantaloons,
Showed the names whom love of Firth had bound,
And lo! Rai's name was nowhere to be found!

But heading all who HAD been blessed,
The name FRANCOISE led all the rest!



Let us go then, you and I
When evening spreads from London sky,
Where Colin Firth walks to and fro
Talking of Caravaggio.

Let us go through half deserted streets
To dark retreats
Of wine bars with no bitter,
Of anonymity mid pigeon's twitter,
To streets neath arches, cold and bare,
By statues in Trafalgar Square.

In the room
The people come and go.
He asks for Amontillado
And talks of carnality and lust,
The masters of the painter's brush.

And indeed there will be time to wonder
What role will take him next?
To wonder, "Will he dare?"
To once again ascend a stair?
To wear a riding coat, his collar mounted firmly to his chin,
His neckcloth rich and modest
Asserted by a pin.

For he has known the arms already
Known them all --
Arms that are braceleted, white and bare,
Arms in modest Janeite dress
Dark arms of Eastern tempteress.

No! He is no Prince Hamlet, but someday would like to be,
Is a sometime Lord, one that will march
To fitful progress, light a scene or two,
Blaze the sky and vanish for awhile
To hide in cold forests, or Roman rooms
Stoking his craft anew.

There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that he meets
There will be time to rest and to create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop those questions on his plate;
Time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions...

In the evening Colin comes and goes
Talking of Caravaggios.


I was out in the Castle gaarden
Weedin' me artichoke
When up I looks, 'n sees strollin' by
A tall 'n handsome bloke.

He looks a bit like King Darcy,
But he's dressed in them modern clothes
With names like Gap 'n Tommy
'N other ones of those.

He's got the stride down perfect
I'll say that fer the gent
They's only one can walk that walk
Around this firmament.

"Hallo, old gal," he hollers
"They told me you'd be here."
I nearly dropped me weeder
The voice was Darcy's, near.

So then he comes on over
"N stoops right next to me.
He's got the brownest color eyes
That ever I did see.

"I'm a new guy round here,
And I had to say hello,"
Me heart began to flutter,
And me tongue turned into dough.

"He---ll---o yerself, young feller,"
I stammered, quite amazed.
Never thought I'd see a twin
In all my long born days.

He reached on over 'n took me hand
'N kissed it soft 'n slow.
Then he flashed that goofy kinda grin,
"So long, I have to go."

"I've got a lot of ladies
That want to have a whirl,
But I'll come back and help you 'weed,'
I like an older girl."

I run up to me aerie
And changed to Sunday best.
I'm waitin' now to meet him
When he's finished with the rest.


It’s true, It’s true
The Queen has made it clear,
The Castle must be perfect all the year...

A law was made a distant year ago here
Our Colin-love must be forever hot
And there’s no room for any kind of woe here
In Firthelot.

The winter is forbidden till December
And exits March 2 on the dot
By order summer lingers till through September
In Firthelot,

We know it sounds a bit bizarre
But in Firthelot, Firthelot,
That’s how conditions are.

The ladies have their fun long after sundown
By eight AM the Kings will all appear,

In short there’s simply not
A more congenial spot
For happy everaftering
Than here in Firthelot.

We know it gives a person pause
But in Firthelot, Firthelot,
Those are the legal laws.

King Colin will reign forever on the hillside
By 9 PM the OT’s will disappear,

In short there’s simply not
A more congenial spot
For happy everaftering
Than heeeere in Firthhhhhelot.


Birkin, Darcy and Gould one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe, --
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
Where are you going, to what far place?
The old moon asked the three?
We have come to woo each beautiful face
That lives in the Colin-y,
Roses and wine and treats have we,
Said Birkin,
And Gould.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The stars were the lovely women who’s
Home is that Colin-y.
“Just place your presents where’re you choose
So very hungry for love are we.”
So cried the ladies to the Kingly three --
And Gould.

They laughed and loved and the hours flew
With the ladies of Colin-y,
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe
Bringing home the Kingly three.
Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed,
As if it could not be,
And some folk thought was a dream they dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea
But I shall name you the Kingly three
And Gould.

Birkin and Darcy have gold brown eyes
And Gould is handsome too.
The wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is the dream the soft winds blew.
So shut your eyes while we all sing
Of wonderful sights that be
And you shall see these beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the Kingly three
And Gould

The Royal Bard


The Firthian Hounds of Heaven
by Colin Firth

I fled them, down the nights and down the days;
I fled them down the arches of the years;
I fled them down the internetian ways
Of all their lists, and in the midst of tears
I hid from them, and under running laughter
     Up vistaed lands I sped
     And shot, precipitated,
Adown Firthantic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From these strong feet that followed, followed after.
     But with unhurrying chase,
     And unperturbèd pace, deliberate speed, majestic Colin-y,
     They beat - their voices beat
     More instant than the feet -
     "We'll catch you yet, you'll see."


Gifts Galore!

The time has arrived to send out cards
For Hanukkah, Christmas, the whole nine yards.

So greetings I send to the Ladies of Firth
Up and down, and around this earth.

I place Colin as Lawrence under the tree
Of Filthless in Seattle, my pal Amy.

A truly inflatable Colin doll
Is on its way to our passionate Francoise.

And to New Zealand, and scholarly Lisa,
I lend books on the theater, courtesy of Visa.

To Jester Rai, witty and cool,
A week in Hawaii with Rufus Sewell

I couldn't forget our committed Delia
From Duval himself, a white Camellia.

To watch forever a 1000 A's
Multi movie passes for Pey Wen and L. J.

To South Joisey Man, funny and kind.
Her very own Darcy - body AND mind

A special salute to our Web-skilled coven.
Carol, Meluchie, Marilyn & Ellen

Waiting in Hackney is a wonderful gift,
For our Jolanta. It should give her a lift.

To Fabbee and Rhoda in far LA
An eternal replay of their lovely day.

Across the miles, I send a Firth
To all the Australians from Sidney to Perth.

A dance with Colin for Bliek, Helene
And ditto dances for Lizz and Eileen

To Tomoe in Japan in the far Pacific
Judd and his sweater, very terrific.


To Phyllis J, Grace, and Phyllis 2
 A night of passion with you know who

A "CF grin in a box" sent by the tooth fairy,
To Rachel, Robin H., and Reverend Mary.

And Emma and Helena, who love to "express,"
Their very own Hardcastle, via UPS

To Hannele, Tytti, Anna-Karin & Karen,
A Darcy coat, with Darcy "therein"

Mr. Firth will pop from out the large cake
That I’ve sent to Queen Robin &especially baked.

Here’s a little remembrance for Southland Sherri
Keys to the castle from Gatekeeper Mary.

Monica, Dolores, Bobbie and Mick
Any Colin you want is yours to pick.

Chris and Genevieve, Julie(s) and Janet
Enough Colin autographs to fill the whole planet.

Miss Wynn - & Leonie in Dublin town,
Your very own embroidered Lizzy gown.

Sandra and Judith, Laura(s) and Patricia
A phone call from Colin is what I wish ya.

Joe Prince has told me not to forgeet
Myra and Tamara and Marguerite

To Barbara, Janice, Lelette and Maureen
Slo Mo VCR's 8 TV's with BIG screens.

Is there anyone else that I haven't included7
Forgive the omission, my brain is denuded.

So to all of our Firth gals - you're invited to stay
In your own special room at Valmont's chalet.

There’ll be dancing and food and fun galore.
And alter midnight, a knock at your door.

Happy Holidays