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**A Dog Named HONK**
My claim to fame, both proud and true,
Is something small, but dear to do,
My mate named Stan, a friend of old,
Helped birth a word now widely told.
Back in the sixties, swingin’ days,
When music hummed and minds would blaze,
We shaped a phrase that time prolongs,
A simple word. we called it *“Yonks.”*
You may have doubts, you may protest,
But still, it’s true — I don’t jest!
For Stan and I, with mischief’s spark,
Made language dance from light to dark.
He had a dog — a wiry chap,
With bristles coarse and scruffy nap,
They called him *Honks* (though why, who knew?),
He didn’t honk — but barked AT You!
A guard dog fierce, with loyal heart,
But poor at stealth or sneaky art,
For Stan must shimmy down the drain,
To meet me out on fear of pain.
His mum and dad were less than happy,
By how their lad and I were pally,
Yet still we schemed with code and grin,
Each whistle signaled, “Let’s begin!”
When Stan was grounded, we’d still play,
In secret sounds from far away,
Old Honk would tilt his head askew,
But never guessed what we would do.
He had a dog — a wiry chap,
With bristles coarse and scruffy nap,
They called him *Honks* (though why, who knew?),
He didn’t honk — but barked AT You!
So when we spoke of times long gone,
Of scrapes and dreams we’d stumbled on,
We’d laugh and say, with knowing glow,
“It happened *Honks Ago*, you know!”
And as the months began to flow,
Our phrase evolved, as phrases go,
From *Honks Ago* through youthful pranks,
To *Yonks Ago* — and so, our thanks.
He had a dog — a wiry chap,
With bristles coarse and scruffy nap,
They called him *Honks* (though why, who knew?),
He didn’t honk — but barked AT You!
Now every time that someone says,
“Yonks ago,” in modern days,
I smile and think of Stan, my mate,
And all the tales we’d fabricate.
I’d shout his name for all to cheer,
But Stan’s a private soul, I fear,
So here’s my nod — a gentle bow,
He knows ….. I’m sure ….. he’ll smile somehow.
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Copyright © Peter Moring 2025
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