Hue and Cry at the end of 2018

GH, my French fellow-penteloper, has sent me Christmas greetings, including the following:

Slangelope (in French) :

Un jour qu’il n’allait pas au taf (1)
Il enfila ses pattes d’eph’ (2)
Passa la brosse sur ses tifs (3)
Mit un veston de belle étoffe
Prêt pour l’après-midi au turf (4).

Notes
(1) Slang for : work
(2) pattes d’epa’ (= pattes d’éléphant) : flares
(3) slang for : hair
(4) pronounced turf = horse races.

The prankster

A born-prankster of pranks a fan
He once went a-strolling across the fen
A branch emerging not unlike a finn (sic)
Made him catch the scene on his ‘phone
On the net when posted imagine the fun !

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Here is part of my reply:

Dear [GH],

I now have some breathing space after a busy-ish weekend being host to some of my wife's family. We were ten around the festive board yesterday and I'm pleased to say they all seemed to appreciate my main course which was built around ample portions of haggis (thankfully in season).

I've now put the poems and prose of Robert Southwell to bed, at least for the time being. This means I have been able to dip my toes once again into the pentelopic pools of Parnassus:

Hue and Cry

Increasingly, poor people seem to pander
To all the rainbow hues of sex (and gender);
One careless pronoun's like a spark in tinder
Provoking outraged cries that make us ponder
And puzzle how we fell for such a blunder.

Thank you for your own lines; I always enjoy reading them aloud and musing on the meaning. Very late in life, I've started to make the acquaintance of the unum, the verum, the bonum and the pulchrum in music. I fancy they may be applied just as easily to unsung verse.