thoughts on a different sort of world....
THE ROMAN TICK
As Caesar gave his catacomb,
He noticed a Roman tick,
Right on its back where a cat can't scratch
And most certainly cannot lick.
He turned to his wife (as cats were her life),
And shouted, “Cornelia! CARPE DIEM!”
“There's more than just one, can you see them all run?
They're right by the collar, see them?”
He went in with the comb, did the Emperor of Rome,
Until all of the ticks and fleas flew,
But as not one to waste, wondered how they might taste
And ate not just the one he ET TU.
THE GHOST OF TOAST
Some spooky things have been going on , in the local grocery store,
Just by the rice to be precise, halfway down aisle four.
The butter spread a rumour that each night at half past ten,
A single slice of medium white will decide to rise again.
Quite why this happens is anyone's guess and nothing has been proven,
But one things for sure that in this store, it's a source of much confusion.
He was raised as one of twenty loaves born into the upper crust,
But sadly Slice met his stale end in a way that's most unjust,
A half-baked gluten free garlic bread escaped the grocers chiller,
He was armed with bread sticks and on a roll to become a cereal killer.
The deed was done and Slice's mum arrived - but seconds late;
A lifeless white, now brown bread, had already met his fate.
His Marmalade him down to rest with flours by his side,
Cremated in a six slice Russell Hobbs, toasted evenly on both sides.
But Slice isn't sour dough as he haunts the local store,
He just takes a pizza this and pizza that and throws them on the floor.
THE CURRANT WAY WE'RE RAISIN 'EM
Back in the day, the elders say life was more a peeling,
The fruits today don't guava clue of how they should be feeling.
In thirty eight to find a date, the mango sit be cider,
Tell her how sub lime she was and orange to wine and dine her.
He'd say 'Honeydew, you know I'm peach less on this date!
We're a perfect pear and I swear our meeting was purée fate'.
The currant way we're going though our feelings must be buried,
As it's wrong to assume a bunch of things as fruits are far more varied.
NEVER TAKE A SALMON TO AN OPERA
Never take a salmon to the opera,
A decision that would prove to be unpopular,
Although it's not a sin
and you'd both be laughing at la fin,
You must never take a salmon to the opera.
Never take a Cheetah to the fair,
For rides and thrills they really just don't care, Although for others it would be a belter
To see a cat on a Helter Skelter,
You must never take a cheetah to the fair.
Never take a Mackerel to your school,
Unless of course you have a swimming pool,
And if you do I'd leave him there,
Because for learning they don't care,
So never take a mackerel to your school.
Never take a sloth to the gym,
It really is no fun for her or him,
Excercise and lifting weights,
To a sloth just isn't great,
You must never take a sloth to the gym.
Never take a Duck to a diner,
Even though you want to wine and dine her,
the food might make her ill
and she'd blush when you pay her bill,
So never take a Duck to a diner
Never take a slug to a masseuse,
For this they really have no use,
Although with slippy skin
You'd think they'd fit right in,
You must never take a slug to a masseuse
Never take a yak to the barbers,
Although it seems they could use one. Regardless
It's their hair that keeps them warm
and cosy in a storm,
So never take a yak to the barbers
Never take an adder to a math test,
they're not as useful as their name would suggest,
They can't add two plus two ,
and a wiggly ruler's of no use to you,
So never take an adder to a math test.
THE TRANSYLVANIAN CATERPILLAR
Deep down in the garden vegetable patch
lives old Count Cabbage White -
The Transylvanian caterpillar,
who only comes out at night.
He feasts on all the foliage
stripping each and every leaf,
a task he does so effortlessly
with his tiny vampire teeth.
The other bugs tell stories
of how he came to be this way,
how he escaped the jaws of a bat
one stormy autumn day.
One thing's for sure, there is no cure
and they want rid of him for good.
So to rid the patch of this wriggly fiend
there was only one who could.
They made the call
and from over the wall
the answer there was stood;
Stan Smellsing, the toad
from across the road,
with a sharpened piece of wood.
The bugs told Stan of their devious plan
to be rid of Count Cabbage White.
How he eats all the food at dusk
and scares them all at night.
Stan named his price and the bugs shouted thrice,
“Hooray, Hooray, Hooray!
With Count Cabbage White gone,
we can then all get on and eat ourselves sick - all day!"
Stan set off past the water trough
and up the garden path,
following the echoing sound
of the old Counts' evil laugh.
Stan reached the patch of skeletal greens
and found where the Count had made his home;
In the darkest corner, nice and damp,
behind a garden gnome.
Stan searched hard to find the Count
by the light of the harvest moon,
but all that remained where the Count once reigned
was a silky white cocoon.
Old Counts cocoon lit up by the moon
was a sight to be believed...
It was attached to a runner of a first prize legume
so the Count could Rest In Peas.
THE LEGACY OF ANNE THE PIRATE
There was a pirate, Anne's her name,
she had a crew of three,
None of whom knew the alphabet
as they all got stuck at C.
She wished to be the richest pirate
and leave a legacy,
to be the subject of all Pirate tales
and the most feared, preferably.
Anne was quite a wealthy pirate
with a golden peg and hook,
For this she paid an arm and leg
because of treasures that she took.
The crew of three were very brave,
a team that showed no fear,
And when on land had a piercing business
that charged a buck an' ear.
After each successful haul,
Anne would party with her goons,
She'd provide the cake and all the food
and most importantly, doubloons.
Anne wasn't feeling well one day,
so she went to see the Doc.
He asked “What bothers you today?”
Anne pulled off her one sock...
And showed him spots upon her foot,
The doc said "Don't Worry! They're benign”.
“No there's not, “there be eight” she said,
“I counted them three times.”
She used to walk the plank each morning,
until she got a dog,
But one day slipped and fell overboard,
when the ship sailed into fog.
The Fiery redhead disappeared
and fell into the deep blue sea,
now not so redhead, more marooned,
without the other three.
Her peg remains in the ocean somewhere,
where she met her destiny,
So I guess she got her wish after all
and left her leg at sea.
IT'S GOOD TO TALK
Your head's just a helmet of sorts,
Protecting your feelings and thoughts.
It does have a spout to let everything out,
But only if you choose to of course!
THE MIGRATION OF THE DIGESTIVE
This story begins in a biscuit tin,
When a lone cream cracker accidentally fell in.
“Oh crumbs” said the cracker you're the first biscuits I've seen,
I'm a cracker abroad this is the farthest I've been.
“Us biscuits will show you around and welcome you in,
We'll head down to the Club with the Party Rings.”
A few Bourbons down and they'd ran out of dough,
A taxi for all, it was high time to go.
“Wafer me” shouted the cracker, feeling quite baked,
“I need to go home it's getting a tad late.
“I'll come with you, I'm bound to fit in,”
said the last biscuit standing, a lone almond thin.
"I'm afraid there's no space for a square in my tub,
As the only hole left is where a round cracker once was.”
The biscuits woke later and to their surprise ,
Cracker had left without saying his goodbyes.
Cracker had returned back home to the tub,
With only fond memories of his night at the Club.
Then later that day, about quarter past three,
A Custard cream died in service, in a hot cup of tea.
The biscuits held a meeting and voted to choose
who would find old cracker and deliver the news.
The meeting concluded - all votes for digestive,
And this how digestives in cracker tubs manifested.
Do monkeys eat bananas?
Peel them ?
Or squeeze them out their skins?
These are questions that require an internet search when you've finished all important things.
A POEM ABOUT WORDS AND STUFF
Surely a retired tyre fitter no longer wants to re-tyre?
If you want carols on Christmas Eve a choir must be acquired.
If an ions on a quest then should we question an ions quest?
If quizzes are truly quizzical then what does that make a test?
If a cow is lied to by a male should she un-believe a bull ?
If you think about it, balloons are always empty even when they're full!
A church point is a spire and a spyer is a spy ,
Or at least that what they aspire to be that sneaky girl or guy.
We all like bees that is of course until you have been stung,
Ten quid for a jar of honey that's not cheap to anyone.
If a fly is called a fly then why's a spider not a walk?
And a conversation about super cars is surely talk of torque?
Just some things I've been pondering, no loss of any sleep,
As it's nothing really serious, just a bit of tongue in cheek.