mc5 - Pea and Honey Recipes

arrow_circle_left arrow_circle_up arrow_circle_right

Pea and Honey Recipes

help

I Eat My Peas With Honey
And tales of derring-do.
Four lines, they can be rhyming
(That's Glow Worms to me and you).
Ending line is as usual.

arrow_circle_up

And the 'Dum-de-dum-de-dum' I think I've got the metre right, even if it's not a perfect rhyme...

[pen] Do you know the Monty Python sketch about Denis Moore? It's apposite.

I'm very fond of lupins

And shrubberies are nice

But best of all are cacti

Distilled and served with ice

My brother is a tailor he's actually a programmer. worked on the 'Halo' game franchise.

He sewed my new blue jeans 'Sun-up Alterations, Zips Mended While-U-Wait'>

My father was a gambling man

Way down in Whitmore Reans

My papa was a preacher man

And so was Billy Ray's

When he stole kisses from me

I was young - it was a phase.

I close my eyes and count

To ten - that was the plan

Alas I fell asleep at six

Finish for me if you can

I wish I were an aardvark

First in the alphabet

Alas I am a zebra

But ahead of the zzxjoanw yet.

Qaanaaq is in Greenland

Its night life must be seen

This requires a microscope

So you must be very keen

I wish I were a chimney sweep

I'd sing 'Chim-chim-chereeee!'

I'd talk in mangled Cockney

And shout "'ello Mary!"

I wish I could be thinner

Say, butyl acetate

Or maybe min'ral spirits

Your shine off I would take

Merry Christmas Everybody!

Good cheer to one and all!

While there's still some hot toddy

Let's drink it 'til we fall!

It's Boxing Day in Canada

They're fighting in the streets

And if a hockey match breaks out

The day will be complete(s)!

I had a little nut tree

I often used to beat it

But it never bore a single nut

I think that I've been cheated.

I wish I were a rain-gauge

Overflowing in a storm

So full I can't contain myself

As I'm not cribriform

I have a little puppy

It loves to play with me

It's scoffed my little guppy

And quaffed my Earl Grey tea.

The Yanks are playing "Super Bowls"

They sometimes touch the ball

They've so much armor (sic) plating

They don't feel pain at all

I wish I were a scaffolder

That leapt from pole to pole

Shunning 'elf'n'safety

But never on the dole.

I wish I were a glazier

'Cos I like playing with putty

Hidden text

I'd also buy a football club, if you can call 'em that.

I'd build a pyramid out of glass

Hidden text

Rosie, they're called *teams.* I do at least know that much about hand egg, er I mean American Football.

Then stop for tea and butty

I wish I were a pot-hole

I'd bugger your suspension

As you splash every passer-by

Increasing local tension

They wish we had more tea cakes

They wish we had more tea

They wish we had facilities
So they could have a wee I bet there's a Japanese word for 'being disappointed with a cafe'`

They wish we opened later

To satisfy their needs

Alas, we cannot cater

To their incessant greeds. Sorry, cafe's closed for lunch.

I wish I were a bookie

I'd gather all your cash

And pay for lots of nookie

Rum, sodomy and lash

I wish I were a seaman

'Cos I can go "Ha - harrrr!"

A salt-encrusted demon

Emerging from the haar

I wish I were an athlete

I'd run or jump or throw

Unless I was in Sotchi

With two toilets in a row

I wish, when I was younger,

I'd done as I was told

Avoided all the sex and drugs

N'eer straying from the fold

I wish that I had listened

To my teachers when they said

The name with which you're christened

You'll be called when you're dead.

Which reminds me of the rhyme:

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead
I never knew your proper name was Heraclitus, Fred.

When I am gone and changed my name [P, K, R, R and R - marvellous. More please.]

I hope I'll be remembered

For all the thing's I haven't done

Not the bodies I've dismembered apols

While I'm alive and kicking

And working as a plumber (pen) Can't stop giggling.

With call-out rates extortionate

And clients ever-dumber

I'll quote three times the going rate

I'll drink my weight in tea

I'll say your loo is dodgy, mate

I'll flash my arse for free.

Today we need to dig a hole

Then fill it in again

At least it keeps us off the dole

And considered working men.

I wish I were a bobsleigh

Taking bends at speed

Tipping out my passengers

I'm spiteful, yes indeed

Thank you for your custom

It says here on the bill

We'd like to know of problems

And hope you won't be ill.

I wish I were a writer

I'd write all sorts of things

Some of which are shiter I axshully am a writer for money

Than Tolkein's lordly rings.

I wish I were a zombie

Arising from the grave

In a dust-strewn woollen Crombie

I nicked from Chas and Dave.

I wish I were an angler

Slowly drowning worms

With my stick and dangler

My patience this affirms. (pen, Chalky, penpenult. Splendid.)

I wish I were a stevedore

Working on the docks

"Accidentally" damaging

Containers' “thief-proof” locks.

If I were not a petty thief Sorry - that's the third one in a row now.

A politician I would be

"Blame immigrants" my leitmotif

Who should be kicked back o'er the sea.

If I could be who e'er I chose Four now ☺

I'd be the King of Wales

And wear tights all colored rose

While guzzling Trappist Ales.

I wish I were a criminal

That heaved a bag marked "SWAG"

Eschewing texts subliminal

And shackled with a tag

I wish I were a hobbit

With hairy size-12 feet

Instead I'm like John Bobbitt

An earthling incomplete

I'm glad I am a Briton

For a Brit it's best to be

But only a few can fit on

A pin head comf'tably

I crave a piece of chocolate cake

Filled with gooey cream

For wholesome fats and carbs I ache

I'm rather broad of beam oblig.

My waistline is expanding

It surely can't be age

That makes the act of standing

Lead to impotent rage

I wish I were a tea-cup

The finest Wedgwood kind

From which the gentry might sup

A potion most refined. Not Co-op teags, then.

A biscuit fit for dipping I avoided using 'dunking'. You can thank me later

Is flavourful and firm

But cover it with dripping

See hardened dunkers squirm *later* Thank you pen :)

If I were a cartoonist

With loaded, painty brush

I'd paint a young balloonist

In youth's initial flush

And if I'd been born Rembrandt

I'd not be posting here

No self-respecting self-portraitist

would expose himself I fear swiftly moving on ...

This talk of Old Dutch Masters

Has bored me quite to tears

But Romanesque pilasters was trying to make a line about Amsterdam S&M bars, but couldn't quite get the rhyme to work

Stunned even Wackford Squeers

If you refer to Dickens

Which I'm sure you often do

Then please, don't cite “Darles Chickens”

Lest Spooner, he might sue.

Bravo!

Let the horizontal rule

If I were made of rubber

Like Michelin man of yore

I'd drink like fat Bibendum

And yet still ask for more

Oh, would that I were smart

Enough to pass a Mensa test

I'd need not work at labouring

I'd be smarter than the rest.

There's nothing in my pension pot

Apart from dreams and dust

My salary ? I spent the lot !

Now I'm homeless, old and bust

When you've got money, spend it all!

For saving's just for fools

So live your life, and have a ball

Hidden text

[p. me, N, S] I liked the last one a lot.

Be flagrant with the rules! [Phil] me too.

Poor I was born, and poor I'll die

But in the years between

My riches, they will hit the sky

-- Until my kid's a teen.

A rainy Thursday morning

Dull and wet and cool

Is ideal for a bike ride

By a lycra-bedecked fool.

So what's the point of planning

When the weather lets you down

I planned to lie there tanning

But I'm soaking wet, not brown.

A frabjous day is dawning

So sing "Callooh! Callay!"

And heed no empty warning

Too sunny for making hay.

I'm seeking new employment

I don't care what I do

My main aim is enjoyment

And a fag-break in the loo.

Bank Holidays are all too few

And all too soon are over

I waste it lazing - oh, don't you?

Or rolling in the clover

I wish I were a saucepan trad.

With a tightly-fitting lid

My contents all a-boiling

Though from view it's hid

I wish I had a pony tail

A Croydon facelift too

'Cos frankly I'm an ugly sod

Hidden text

(Phil) Oi! But for half the width of a road I'm in Croydon.

Who loves a good updo

The stain is there for all to see

Its cause not hard to guess

I've scrubbed until my hands are raw

With a cold compress.

[KS] You were a syllabubble short, m'dear. No matter.
'Get out, damn spot! Get out!' I cry

So much for dry cleaning (pen) The line can be stretched, just about, and it doesn't offend me. If it doesn't offende me it won't offend anybody, will it?

I'll soak it in ammonia

Then stand there, pants down, queening.

With copper, mangle, Reckitt's Blue

Wash day is a breeze

Hang them out, come rain or shine

'Tho it crucifies my knees

Blacking grates and mangling sheets

The joys below the stairs

The parquet's scarred by hobnail cleats
But no-one down here cares. Insurrection from the staff...

Rise e'er the dawn, to clean the hearths

That's Cinderella's fate

Then light the fires, and run the baths

And don't stay out too late.

arrow_circle_down

Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord