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Pea and Honey Recipes
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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.
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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!
If I were made of rubber
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
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