To see a bird picking at fruit,
is no news;
But to see a dog playing the flute,
is strange indeed!
You see I am playing here,
Too, too, too, too;
When I’ve done with my flute,
I’ll give it to you.
To see a man get a boat,
is no news;
But to see a man jump down his throat,
is strange indeed!
If I once get my legs in
As far as my knees,
The rest will slip down
With a great deal of ease.
To see a good boy read his book,
is no news;
But to see a goose roasting a cook,
is strange indeed!
I’ll roast ye, and baste ye,
But who will may taste ye.
To see a boy swim in a brook,
is no news;
But to see a fish catch a man with a hook,
is strange indeed!
Spare me, good Mr Fish,
I didn’t molest you.
I’ll spare you no longer
Than till I dress you.
To hear a parrot say, pretty Poll,
is no news;
But to see a sow with a parasol,
is strange indeed!
Like a lady I shine,
I’m so fat and so fine;
I’ve a right I suppose,
To a shade for my nose.
ANONYMOUS
I SAW A PEACOCK
I saw a peacock with a fiery tail
I saw a blazing comet pour down hail
I saw a cloud all wrapt with ivy round
I saw a lofty oak creep on the ground
I saw a beetle swallow up a whale
I saw a foaming sea brimful of ale
I saw a pewter cup sixteen feet deep
I saw a well full of men’s tears that weep
I saw wet eyes in flames of living fire
I saw a house as high as the moon and higher
I saw the glorious sun at deep midnight
I saw the man who saw this wondrous sight.
ANONYMOUS
UPTOWN, DOWNTOWN
Uptown, downtown,
Wrong side to,
Goodness me
What a hullabaloo!
Upstairs, downstairs,
Roundabout,
Backwards, forwards,
Inside OUT!
CLYDE WATSON
ONE FINE DAY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
One fine day in the middle of the night,
Two dead men got up to fight,
Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other.
A paralysed donkey passing by
Kicked a blind man in the eye,
Knocked him through a nine-inch wall
Into a dry ditch and drowned them all.
ANONYMOUS
I SAW IIJ HEDLES PLAYEN AT A BALL
I saw iij hedles playen at a ball,
an hanlas man served hem all,
Whyll iij movthles men lay & low,
iij legles a-way hem drow.
ANONYMOUS
I WENT TO THE PICTURES TOMORROW
I went to the pictures tomorrow
I took a front seat at the back,
I fell from the pit to the gallery
And broke a front bone in my back.
A lady she gave me some chocolate,
I ate it and gave it her back.
I phoned for a taxi and walked it,
And that’s why I never came back.
PLAYGROUND RHYME
TOPSYTURVEY-WORLD
If the butterfly courted the bee,
If churches were built in the sea,
And three times one was nine;
If the pony rode his master,
If the buttercups ate the cows,
If the cat had the dire disaster
To be worried, sir, by the mouse;
If mamma, sir, sold the baby
To a gipsy for half a crown;
If a gentleman, sir, was a lady,
The world would be Upside-Down!
If any or all of these wonders
Should ever come about,
I should not consider them blunders,
For I should be Inside-Out!
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS
WHEN I WENT OUT FOR A WALK ONE DAY
When I went out for a walk one day,
My head fell off and rolled away,
And when I saw that it was gone –
I picked it up and put it on.
When I went into the street
Someone shouted, ‘Look at your feet!’
I looked at them and sadly said,
‘I’ve left them both asleep in bed!’
ANONYMOUS
SENSIBLE QUESTIONS
‘Suppose the land turned into the sea?’
‘Don’t be stupid! It couldn’t be!’
‘Suppose the sea turned into the land?’
‘It wouldn’t happen. You don’t understand!’
‘Suppose I waved this grassy stalk,
And Max the dog began to talk?’
‘Your fancy’s foolish. Your ways are wild!
I often think you’re a silly child!’
But Marigold waved her stalk of grass
And all she had asked about came to pass.
The land rolled up and the sea rolled over
The waves were covered with grass and clover,
While Marigold and her reproving aunt
Who’d kept on saying ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Can’t!’,
Were up to their necks in a wild green sea –
And Max the dog said, ‘Fiddle dee dee!’
MARGARET MAHY
CHORTLING AND GALUMPHING
JABBER WOCKY
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
‘And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
LEWIS CARROLL
TO MARIE
When the breeze from the bluebottle’s blustering blim
Twirls the toads in a tooroomaloo,
And the whiskery whine of the wheedlesome whim
Drowns the roll of the rattatattoo,
Then I dream in the shade of the shally-go-shee,
And the voice of the bally-molay
Brings the smell of the pale poppy-cod’s blummered blee
From the willy-wad over the way.
Ah, the shuddering shoe and the blinketty-blanks
When the punglung falls from the bough
In the blast of a hurricane’s hicketty-hanks
O’er the hills of the hocketty-how!
Give the rigamarole to t
he clangery-whang,
If they care for such fiddlededee;
But the thingumbob kiss of the whangery-bang
Keeps the higgledy-piggle for me.
L’Envoi
It is pilly-po-doddle and aligobung
When the lollypup covers the ground,
Yet the poldiddle perishes plunkety-pung
When the heart jimny-coggles around.
If the soul cannot snoop at the gigglesome cart
Seeking surcease in gluggety-glug,
It is useless to say to the pulsating heart,
‘Yankee-doodle ker-chuggety-chug!’
ANONYMOUS
TYPO
‘Nitgub,’ said the typewriter,
and clenched the paper tight.
‘Nitgub positively.
It is here in black and white.’
‘Nonsense,’ I said.
‘I typed N-O-T-H-I-N-G;
the word of course was nothing,
simply nothing, don’t you see?’
‘Nothing may be what you meant,
but nitgub’s what you wrote.
I like it,’ said the typewriter.
‘It strikes a happy note.
It has more style than nothing,
has a different sort of sound.
The colour is superior;
the flavour’s nice and round.
Have you plumbed its deepest depths,
its mystery explained?’
‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’ll take it.
Nitgub ventured, nitgub gained.’
RUSSELL HOBAN
THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG
Out on the margin of moonshine land,
Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs,
Out where the whing-whang loves to stand,
Writing his name with his tail on the sand,
And wiping it out with his oogerish hand;
Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs.
Is it the gibber of gungs and keeks?
Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs,
Or what is the sound the whing-whang seeks,
Crouching low by the winding creeks,
And holding his breath for weeks and weeks?
Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs.
Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things!
Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs,
‘T is a fair whing-whangess with phosphor rings,
And bridal jewels of fangs and stings,
And she sits and as sadly and softly sings
As the mildewed whir of her own dead wings;
Tickle me, dear; tickle me here;
Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs.
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
BELAGCHOLLY DAYS
Chilly Dovebber with his boadigg blast
Dow cubs add strips the bedow add the lawd,
Eved October’s suddy days are past –
Add Subber’s gawd!
I kdow dot what it is to which I cligg
That stirs to sogg add sorrow, yet I trust
That still I sigg, but as the liddets sigg –
Because I bust.
Add now, farewell to roses add to birds,
To larded fields and tigkligg streablets eke;
Farewell to all articulated words
I fain would speak.
Farewell, by cherished strolliggs od the sward,
Greed glades and forest shades, farewell to you;
With sorrowing heart I, wretched add forlord,
Bid you – achew!!!
ANONYMOUS
A RECIPE FOR INDIGESTION
DILLY DILLY PICCALILLI
Dilly Dilly Piccalilli
Tell me something very silly:
There was a chap his name was Bert
He ate the buttons off his shirt.
CLYDE WATSON
EVER EATEN
Ever eaten
poodle strudel?
It’s sensational
with cream
I once had
chihuahua cheesecake
(Or was that
another bad dream?)
ROGER MCGOUGH
BLEEZER’S ICE-CREAM
I am Ebenezer Bleezer,
I run BLEEZER’S ICE-CREAM STORE,
there are flavours in my freezer
you have never seen before,
twenty-eight divine creations
too delicious to resist,
why not do yourself a favour,
try the flavours on my list:
COCOA MOCHA MACARONI
TAPIOCA SMOKED BALONEY
CHECKERBERRY CHEDDAR CHEW
CHICKEN CHERRY HONEYDEW
TUTTI-FRUTTI STEWED TOMATO
TUNA TACO BAKED POTATO
LOBSTER LITCHI LIMA BEAN
MOZZARELLA MANGOSTEEN
ALMOND HAM MERINGUE SALAMI
YAM ANCHOVY PRUNE PASTRAMI
SASSAFRAS SOUVLAKI HASH
SUKIYAKI SUCCOTASH
BUTTER BRICKLE PEPPER PICKLE
POMEGRANATE PUMPERNICKEL
PEACH PIMENTO PIZZA PLUM
PEANUT PUMPKIN BUBBLEGUM
BROCCOLI BANANA BLUSTER
CHOCOLATE CHOP SUEY CLUSTER
AVOCADO BRUSSELS SPROUT
PERIWINKLE SAUERKRAUT
COTTON CANDY CARROT CUSTARD
CAULIFLOWER COLA MUSTARD
ONION DUMPLING DOUBLE DIP
TURNIP TRUFFLE TRIPLE FLIP
GARLIC GUMBO GRAVY GUAVA
LENTIL LEMON LIVER LAVA
ORANGE OLIVE BAGEL BEET
WATERMELON WAFFLE WHEAT
I am Ebenezer Bleezer,
I run BLEEZER’S ICE-CREAM STORE,
taste a flavour from my freezer,
you will surely ask for more.
JACK PRELUTSKY
THE REMARKABLE CAKE
It’s Christmas – the time when we gather to make
A truly remarkable once-a-year cake.
The recipe’s written in letters of gold
By a family witch who is terribly old.
The rule of this cake is it has to be made
In a wheelbarrow (stirred with a shovel or spade)
At Christmas, the season of love and good will.
Other times of the year it might make you feel ill.
You must nail it together or stick it with glue,
Then hammer it flat with the heel of your shoe.
You must stretch it out thin, you must tie it in knots,
Then get out your paint box and paint it with spots.
What a taste! What a flavour! It’s certain to please.
It’s rather like ice-cream with pickles and cheese.
In June it would taste like spaghetti and mud,
While its taste in September would curdle your blood.
Oh, what a cake! It looks simply delicious.
Now get out the carving knife, get out the dishes!
Be careful! Be careful! This cake might explode,
And blow up the kitchen and part of the road.
Oh dear! It’s exploded! I thought that it might.
It’s not very often we get it just right.
Let’s comfort the baby, revive Uncle Dan,
And we’ll start it all over as soon as we can.
For Christmas – that gipsy day – comes and it goes
Far sooner than ever we dare to suppose.
Once more in December we’ll gather to make
That truly remarkable once-a-year cake.
MARGARET MAHY
‘I’VE EATEN MANY STRANGE AND SCRUMPTIOUS DISHES…’
‘I’ve eaten many strange and scrumptious dishes in my time,
Like jellied gnats and dandyprats and earwigs cooked in slime,
And mice with rice – they’re really nice
When roasted in their prime.
(But don’t forget to sprinkle them with just a pinch of grime.)
‘I’ve eaten fresh
mudburgers by the greatest cooks there are,
And scrambled dregs and stinkbugs’ eggs and hornets stewed in tar,
And pails of snails and lizards’ tails,
And beetles by the jar.
(A beetle is improved by just a splash of vinegar.)
‘I often eat boiled slobbages. They’re grand when served beside
Minced doodlebugs and curried slugs. And have you ever tried
Mosquitoes’ toes and wampfish roes
Most delicately fried?
(The only trouble is they disagree with my inside.)
‘I’m mad for crispy wasp-stings on a piece of buttered toast,
And pickled spines of porcupines. And then a gorgeous roast