Six Asses

A couple of weeks ago, meself and a few of the bucks from work were returning from a leisurely lunch, riding along in a big old pick-up, shooting the breeze and in no hurry back to the office. While it was hotter than blazes,  the subject was winter weather.  The highway department in New York uses salt to cope with ice, I shared.  Illinois uses a concoction of grit and salt, according to Brian.  Ed announced that Missouri uses ashes. 

"Ashes!!!?" we all exclaimed in unison.  "Where do they get the ashes from?" asked Dave.

It all came flooding back to me, a non-sensical rhyme that had been buried within my head for maybe 30 years. 

"From Mrs. Nash", I answered.  "They get the ashes from Mrs. Nash".  The other looked at me quizzically.  "You have never heard that one?" I asked.  The other three shook their heads. 

Apparently the lyrical waxing the of the poet laureate from Steil never made it to Texas.  I laid out the rest for them:

Six asses

Drawing ashes

From Mrs, Nash's

Ash hole

Instant classic, the laughter resounded for several minutes.  Search Google, it is not there.  So for posterity, Beirne Brightly has now archived Bollocks the Bore* and Six Asses.  They will never be forgotten while Google keeps blogs.

* See entry May 11, 2012