Thread: How did barbers hone a wedge in the olden days?

I found a hone that was not flat
And cursed the stars above.
Then I found a mighty wedge
With edge needing repair.
Each hand held one, I cried out loud
And fell into bottomless despair.

Egos and hubris not withstanding, I hesitate to post my opinion for fear of a public spanking .

you lily livered sidewinder!

Originally Posted by Wirm

Egos and hubris not withstanding, I hesitate to post my opinion for fear of a public spanking .

Originally Posted by WW243

I found a hone that was not flat
And cursed the stars above.
Then I found a mighty wedge
With edge needing repair.
Each hand held one, I cried out loud
And fell into bottomless despair.

Nice!

Now, with my sincere apologies to Edgar Allen Poe:

The Raven

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me where I can find a dished hone on Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by antique barbers whose foot-falls pattered on the floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these barbers he hath sent thee
Respite—respite from thy memories of dusty dished hone lore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost hone hoare!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—leave the dust on dished hone lore!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Regards,
Neil

Mine was a PLW (Poem Like Words).