Green Ants and Yam

GREEN ANTS AND YAM

  Paul Vander Loos

  Copyright 2012 Paul Vander Loos

  CHAPTER 1 – CREATURE HUMOUR

  GREEN ANTS AND YAM

  A parody of Green Eggs and Ham by Dr Seuss

  I am Mick

  I am Mick

  Mick I am

  That Mick-I-am

  That Mick-I-am

  I do not like

  that Mick-I-am

  Do you like

  green ants and yam?

  I do not like them

  Mick-I-am

  I do not like

  green ants and yam.

  Would you like them

  in or out?

  I would not like them

  in or out

  I would not like them

  out and about

  I do not like

  green ants and yam

  I do not like them

  Mick-I-am

  Would you like them

  in a stew?

  or rather have them

  as a brew?

  I do not like them

  in a stew

  and rather not

  as a brew

  I would not like them

  in or out

  I would not like them

  out and about

  I do not like

  green ants and yam

  I do not like them

  Mick-I-am

  Would you eat them

  on a plate?

  would you eat them

  with a mate?

  Not with a mate

  Not on a plate

  I would not eat them in or out

  I would not eat them out and about

  I would not eat green ants and yam

  I do not like them, Mick-I-am

  Would you, could you

  in a Ute?

  Eat them! Eat them!

  they’re really beaut.

  I would not, could not

  in a Ute

  You may like them

  that’s the rub …

  You may like them

  in the scrub.

  I would not, could not in the scrub,

  Not in a Ute, now just go jump … you little grub!

  I do not like them on a plate

  I do not like them with a mate

  I do not like them in a stew

  and rather not as a brew

  I do not like them in or out

  I do not like them out and about

  I do not like green ants and yam

  I do not like them Mick-I-am

  A road-train, a road-train!

  could you, would you

  on a road-train?

  Not on a road-train! Not in the scrub!

  Not in a Ute! Mick! Go jump … you grub!

  I would not, could not, on a plate

  I would not, could not, with a mate

  I will not eat them in a stew

  I will not have them as a brew

  I will not eat them in or out

  I will not eat them out or about

  I do not like them, Mick-I-am

  Say!

  In a cave!

  Here in a cave!

  Would you, could you, in a cave?

  I would not, could not,

  in a cave.

  Would you, could you,

  in a drain?

  I would not, could not, in a drain

  Not in a cave. Not on a road-train,

  Not in a Ute, not in the scrub

  I do not like them, Mick, that’s the rub.

  Not on a plate. Not in a stew.

  Not with a mate. Not as a brew.

  I will not eat them in or out

  I do not like them out and about.

  You do not like

  green ants and yam?

  I do not like them

  Mick-I-am

  Could you, would you

  with a dingo?

  I would not

  could not

  with a dingo!

  Would you, could you

  at the bingo?

  I could not, would not, at the bingo

  I will not, will not, with a dingo

  I will not eat them in a drain

  I will not eat them on a road-train

  Not in a cave! Not in the scrub!

  Not in a Ute. Go jump … you grub!

  I do not like them on a plate

  I do not like them with a mate

  I will not eat them in a stew

  I do not like them as a brew

  I do not like them in or out

  I do not like them out and about!

  I do not like green ants and yam

  I do not like them, Mick-I-am.

  You do not like them.

  SO you say.

  Try them! Try them!

  And you may

  Try them, and you may, I say.

  Mick!

  If you get lost.

  I will try them.

  and you’ll pay the cost.

  Well I’ll be!

  I like the crunchy little beggars

  I do! I like them, Mick-I-am!

  And I would eat them at the bingo!

  And I would eat them with a dingo …

  And I will eat them in a drain

  And in a cave. And on a road-train.

  And in a Ute. And in the scrub.

  They are just bonza, so bonza, that’s the rub!

  So I will eat them on a plate

  And I will eat them with a mate

  And I will eat them in a stew

  And I will eat them as a brew

  And I will eat them in and out

  Blimey! I will eat them out and about!

  HOUDINI CROCODILE

  He rested at the Gooseponds,

  Sunning himself with glee.

  It was Houdini the crocodile

  Who had come to stay for tea.

  Houdini was a cool dude…

  Nothing bothered him

  And when people saw him sunning

  They stopped to see him grin.

  He posed for the paparazzi,

  Dined on fresh duck and fowl.

  And when he felt too crowded

  Took a dip to escape the howl.

  The people of the city

  Decided he must go;

  “There’s no room for such a crocodile

  as crocodiles do grow!”

  So the National Parks and Wildlife crew

  Baited up a trap.

  “He’ll soon be caught and relocated.

  Rest assured of that.”

  But Houdini’s tastes were special.

  No rancid meat for him.

  He ignored the trap and dined on fresh

  As fresh is best, by Jim.

  Days went by, and then the weeks

  As Houdini’s fame did spread.

  No-one could catch this crocodile

  And faces soon turned red.

  The people lost their fear of him

  As he lounged in the midday sun;

  The cameras clicked at this Gooseponds star

  And they gave him a run.

  But the National Parks and Wildlife crew

  Were not about to give up chase.

  They’d harpoon this wily demon.

  It was an open and shut case.

  But true to his name, he escaped the barb

  And took to the waters cool

  Where he remains to laugh at people

  In his giant paradise swimming pool.

  The crocodile that the National Parks and Wildlife dubbed “Crafty” was finally cornered in one section of the Gooseponds, and trapped. He was taken to a croc farm in Far North Queensland.

  THE ANT POEM

  I’
ve got a bee in my bonnet

  about ants in my pants ...

  In my pantry

  In my sink

  and everywhere you think

  a self-despising ant may care to ...

  make a link.

  They have no care for human beings

  and every time I turn around

  I see these crowded scenes

  of ants making off with breadcrumbs,

  making tunnels through my greens,

  eating all in sight,

  even the foam of the kool-lite.

  They’ll eat the sponge

  out of my scourers,

  the silicone of the fish tank.

  They’ll find the tiniest trace of food

  and march to it in a long rank.

  Little orange buggers

  barely a millimetre or two;

  they are the biggest bane

  and how their numbers grew ...

  ‘Hey, come over to Paul’s place!

  ‘He’s got some food for you!

  ‘So don’t miss the banquet,

  or you’ll really spew!’

  Well, I tried to bait the little buggers;

  some died but others knew

  the bait would just run out one day

  and so their numbers grew.

  Some entered in the microwave

  while it happily zapped away

  but all they did was dance

  while I just sat and prayed.

  The war against the ants

  seemed to go forever.

  Perhaps I should move out

  so this relationship will sever ...

  But I’ll never give up

  against this minute foe!

  I’ll fight them in the kitchen

  I’ll fight them in the dough

  I’ll fight them on the window sill

  on every sliding door.

  I’ll drown their scrawny bodies

  and squash them on the floor!

  I’ll smash them with my own bare fists

  as they stream into my domain.

  I’ll not take their tawdry trespass

  Not let them make their gain

  I’ll rain upon them from above

  like a beast insane.

  Those dirty little critters

  will hear my voice profane!

  Yet ... let me not give you the idea

  that I don’t care for nature’s lot.

  Why, every time I sit on my rear

  I give it ALL I’ve got!

  GECKOS

  I see them here

  I see them there

  I see those geckos everywhere

  They rush up walls

  They race down halls

  Those geckos with their cheeky calls

  They eat up moths, mossies and midges

  with a slip of the tongue out behind pictures

  They check my mail

  through rain, shine or hail

  then whisk away with a flick of the tail

  I hear their calls both day and night

  cheek—cheep—cheep—cheep—cheep!

  A twirl of the eyes

  and they’re out of sight

  cheek—cheep—cheep—cheep—cheep!

  THE QUEENSLAND PESTS

  They make ‘em big in Queensland

  They’re the biggest pests you’ll see

  and in numbers you can’t count

  They’re more than thirty-three!

  Why, the flies will make the sky go black,

  the fleas will drive a dog insane,

  the mossies are so big and fat

  they look like an aeroplane!

  One landed in Mackay one day

  Staff moved to refuel it ...

  it was half tanked on Avo

  before they knew it!

  My mate said he got a caller ...

  fella in a big brown coat.

  ‘Didn’t say much ... and smelt,’ he said.

  Then he saw that insectine jaw ...

  It was a cockie, not an in-law.

  Then there was that nasty scare

  when I woke up in a tree out there ...

  surrounded by green ants throwing up their bums

  They carried me out of bed ... you do the sums!

  Yeah, they’re mighty big in Queensland

  You can’t tell the ticks from the cows

  The males look like ATVs

  and the sheilas like big fat sows.

  Now, the midges are small

  I’ll grant you that ...

  but not in number, not at all ...

  a million will bite you ‘round the feet

  and you’ll end up like you have measles

  ... red as a beet’

  But the worst of all is that invisible mite

  that will make you itch like crazy into the night.

  Just watch it when you walk the bush

  The scrub itch will get you

  whether you’re tough or a wuss.

  THE PLAGUE OF CROWN STREET

  Out of summer’s kitchen, they came

  Came upon tiny black feet

  Came upon the burring wing

  Came upon the dirt,

  the dust, the mouldy fruit,

  the scraps,

  the leftovers.

  They came and they multiplied:

  two, four, eight, sixteen,

  THIRTY-TWO!

  We threw the scraps outside,

  cleaned the sludge away,

  swept the floor clean

  but still they came.

  Midges sprung up around ankles,

  flies played cat and mouse

  with legs and frantic arms;

  cockroaches creeped up venetians,

  cicadas committed suicide

  on lino floors,

  moths flew hectic formations,

  landing on essays,

  honey-coated cups

  or tonight’s dinner.

  Hairy huntsmen hurried to their deaths,

  crushed under heels:

  these trespassers of fear

  Yet still they came, this plague,

  the insects of Crown Street.