Word of the Week

Hot cockles. A Christmas game. One blind-folded knelt down, and being struck had to guess who gave the blow.

Thus poets passing time away
like children at hot-cockles play.

[From: Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase & Fable, Revised and Enlarged, Harper & Brothers, 1953]


  1. The serendipity never stops ’round here. We made a song, and the demo name of the song was Hot Cockles.

  2. No way! We are tapped into the same cosmic stream. Btw, Verse Chorus Verse is looking good. I like the new masthead.

  3. Matthew Lickona says

    St. Peter: Ah, Brutissimus. You were one of those who beat Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, crying, “Prophesy! Who struck you!” So nice to see you here at the pearly gates for judgment. Nervous?

    Brutissimus: It was just a game, really. The sort of thing children might play at.

    St. Peter: In days to come, that will in fact be the case. They’ll call it Hot Cockles. Speaking of hot, here comes the verdict for your sorry self. Buh-bye.

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