Poetry for a Crocodile

Everyone loves a cute cuddly critter

Such as a cockatoo or a cat

Or even a capercaillie

Or the humble caterpillar

And sure enough

Every one of them

Is bound to make folk smile

But I find they are all

Rather useful snacks

For Clive my

Pet

 

Crocodile

 

 

I was always told Poetry should be short and snappy.

Or turned into a pair of Shoes and a Handbag

 

chair & frog

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Poetry for the Sckimple and the Scallywag

The Sckimple and the Scallywag
Climbed the Farthvart Hill
And threw stones
At little Philomena,
A worker at the mill
But a policeman shouted
Jubstert kor an Grast
Which made the pair
Run away
So very very fast
To lay low until the end of day
Which sadly would
Turn out to be
Their very
Last
.
You See. . . .
.
The policeman searched
But did not find their little hidey hole
As they hid beneath the Yarmalickle Bush
Until dark and they heard the scuffering of a Mole
But it was a foolish thing for them to do
As there are beasts lurking
In the gloomy gloomy dark
.
And as they stood up
To go back home
They were then eaten
By a large mutant
Vampire (and slightly deranged)
Snark

 

people 1

Poetry for a Astronaut Correspondence Course

Kenny Varty was an ASTRONAUT
Or so it was, that Kenny Varty THOUGHT
As he had completed his
Astronaut correspondence COURSE
From a Russian Chap
Named after a famous HORSE
And he even had a diploma, it was big and BLUE
With a picture on it
Of Yuri Gagarin, Laika and an Alien or TWO
But when he applied to NASA
To say he had his diploma and
There was no need for him to TRAIN
They laughed and pointed
And said Kenny Varty
Was almost certainly quite INSANE.
Well that is not the sort of thing
A chap from the suburbs is going to TAKE
So he decided a Rocket was something
He was going to MAKE
For weeks he worked away, in his SHED
And made a rocket, that was big and RED
Then in early July 1969 Kenny Varty set off
On his trip up to the MOON
The Launch accompanied by a local brass band
Who played a cheery upbeat TUNE
Neil Armstrong though was not happy
When he saw Kenny Varty wave and NOD
From outside the NASA lunar landing POD
And when Kenny Varty got back home
He thought he would ring up Neil on the telephone
But of course NASA claimed that Neil was FIRST
And said Kenny Varty was mad and plainly CURSED
But Kenny Varty was happy
Because he KNEW
He had beaten Neil by at least a day or TWO
And regardless of official history
There was nothing
Neil Armstrong could ever SAY
That would make the image of Kenny Varty
Waving outside the lunar lander
Ever Go AWAY
.
.

Which is why I am doing
My Astronaut correspondence course
So I can beat the chaps at NASA . . . . . . . . . .
And hang about in popular Astronaut friendly BARS
And tell all
That I was the first
To
Walk
On
MARS

Poetry for a Sinking Ship

pirate ship 2 d

The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence almost all but he had fled
Telling Captain Flint
A small white lie
And this is what he said
.
I didn’t start the fire
And that on my pipe
A little Puff I really did desire
And those Pesky Seagulls
Made me drop my matches
And I’ve never been good
As you know
At making catches
.
Anyway
Before Captain Flint
Could tell him
To walk the plank
The fire got worse
And the ship
It sort of
.
Sank

 

 

Poetry for a Cat Burglar

Pussy Cat Pussy Cat
Where have you been?
I’ve been shopping in London
To buy a new ring
.
Well OK . . . I mean steal
After All I’m a Cat Burglar
And Mrs Owl
Although an elegant foul
Does like a nice cruise
On Pea Green Boats
And some runcible spoons
And Vole Skin Coats
So I tend to shop
By the light of the moon
Shop by the light
Of the Moon
The Moon
Shop by the light of the Moon
.
So anyway I had got the Ring
And was starting to Sing
While climbing
A Big Bong-Tree
Hey I’m a cat burglar
.
But looking down
Was then a bit of a shock?
Because Mr Piggy-wig
Was down there
Looking up at Me
At Me
Was down there looking up at me
.
Which is why I guess
As I’m sure you already knew
I’m here
In this cell
Telling this story to you, to you
In this cell telling this story to you

Poetry for Plagiarism

The complete works of Shakespeare
Were written by
A flock of monkeys up a Tree
But when I mentioned
It was plagiarism
They threw fruit
Back down at Me
I planned to complain
Despite my fruity Stink
But luckily
As they started on Homer’s Iliad
They all ran out of Ink