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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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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
'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.
The clocks are chiming midnight
But the sun shines overhead
The birds are sleeping in their trees
For now's the day we wed!
I wish I were a Jabberwock
A flame-eyed whiffling thing
But I am just a jubjub bird
And so, on that, I'll sing.
But if I were a bandersnatch
To spot me you'd be quick
For much like Mr Cumberbatch
I'm really rather slick
It fails to pass this simple test
It's neither flesh nor fowl
So now we feel it's prob'ly best
To euthanise your owl
I wish I were a dodgy spiv
With fag from mouth a-dangling
I wouldn't have a damn to give
My coat with coins a-jangling.
The teams are gathering in Brazil
To kick a ball around
Will our team really have the will?
I might just bet a pound.
I root against the English team
Their chances I don't fancy much
I think they may run out of steam
And so I'll bet upon the Dutch.
[S,p,Ro,Ra] Very nice. It was only on the 3rd reading that I realised you were probably referring to football, as I was thinking about cricket. It still works though.
So far Brazil has all the goals
Said some deluded fool
Defensively they're full of holes
Like bras in Samba Schools - e.g. this (NVSFW)
I wish I were the scoresheet
I'd tally up your points
You're very fine statistically
Top marks for double joints
I wish I had my mother's eyes
I'd keep them in this jar (had to go that way really...)
Their glassy stare reminding me
How she'd beat up poor pa-pa
I wish I had my brother's knees
For mine are old and dodgy
His look really good in tights
While I wear trews quite stodgy.
I used to have my uncle's teeth
Displayed upon the wall
I little plaque sat underneath
Which said, in letters small ... (to be continued)
"These teeth were once the pride and joy
Of my dear old Uncle Rolf
Alas, he doesn't need them now
He lost them playing golf."
That reminds me of a favourite Knock-Knock joke:
"knock knock"
Who's there?
"Adolf"
Adolf who?
"Adolf ball mhitmph me in mthme mmouthm"
I wish I were a hacksaw I'd like to hear you say that, pen.
To cut these prison bars
I'd really be a dashing blade
Just like those scimitars

I eat my peas with Hollandaise
Even when the dish is pork
I've done so all my lifelong days
It keeps them on the fork.

[Declaring a "peas" cascade]
I eat my peas with mustard
Washed down with lemonade Declaring an 'Unusual Eating Implements Parallel Cascade' too.
I tried them once with custard
They still fell off the spade. Will that do, pen?
[Rosie] What a slendid birthday present. You delivered in spades, ta v much!
I eat my peas with Marmite
Which Ma might say is messy
But oh :  the umami's so right
But still I look a jessie
I eat my peas with relish
It's fluorescent yellow
The egg-spoon that I eat them with
I stole from some poor fellow.
I like my peas reet mushy
For I'm a northern lad
To those wha claim it's grim oop here (apologies for clunky accent)
Ah'll tell 'ee, tha's bin had!
They're holding pea stalks as we speak
We're hoping there won't be a leek
Of a limerick style
Because in a while
Someone will give us a tweak
I wish I had the muscle
To lift this pile of bricks
But sadly I'm a wimpy man
With arms and legs like sticks
I wish I were a spaceman
I'd float around all day
Until my tank of oxygen
Had leaked my air away.
I wish I were eighteen again
But knew all I now know
I'd find it hard to fall in love
Then marriage wouldn't flow
I wish I were a Jabberwock
With eyes aflame and such
I'd wish you all a frabjous day
And other double Dutch
If I could find a beaten sword
Then I would be a winner;
A plowshare would be my reward
And I could sow me dinner
I wish I were in marketing
In charge of famous brands
I'd trash their corporate image
With my small, dirty hands!
I wish I were a maestro
A crappy Rover car
Though I might get called a tin can
I wouldn't take you far mercy killing.
I wish my legs were stronger
Than those of Usain Bolt
His speed makes him much wonga
I'm poor - my short legs' fault.
Now, Scottish independence *stands back*
Wis thocht up doon the pub
W'all agreed tha' snooty Dave
Should nae be in oor club.
I wish I spoke Italian
I'd chat up all the birds
I'd be a right rapscallion
'Cos ladies don't like nerds
I wish I spoke Swahili
It sounds so unlike Dutch
Yet Swahili's word for "penguin"
Don't change very much
My shoes are nice and shiny
Just like my nose, alas
My hair sticks up quite spiny Curious that shoe polish shines shoes, but dulls noses.
And the sun shines out my as...
...pidistra in the parlour
Victoriana chic
'Tis worthy of La Scala
I know whereof I speak
Software - I wish I'd been I K Brunel
Beneath my stovepipe hat
'Midst belching chimneys I would dwell
But in a mansion, not a flat.
I wish I were an oak tree
Upon the village green
Bolts of lightning do their worst
To this bucolic scene.
I wish I played the mandolin
Just like Captain Corelli
And kept a tame-ish pangolin
As seen on the telly
The poetry of Robbie Burns
Was newly sprung in June
It shone and stank a bit, in turns
Just like the changing moon.
The plays of William Shakespeare
Go on for far too long
But for luvvies in the green room
More time to play ping-pong!
If I could play the tenor sax
The girls would coo and swoon
But I am just a drummer
And so they boo and moon!
If I were in a pantomime
I'd be a panto horse
The head and front legs would be fine
The rear's more fun, of course.
If I were not upon the stage Was it just our local panto that had a big song and dance about this?
A prompter I would be
But only for a living wage
I'll not shout lines for free!
If I lived in the desert
I'd change my name to 'Sandy'
My visage may seem weathered
But I make the camels randy!
To welcome in the Noo Year
I have not said a word
I've been in here for 5 days now
And nothing has occurred...
If I were just a dicky-bird (Phil) Fie to your orthography, sir!
You wouldn't get a peep
I'd tuck my head beneath my wing
And feign to be asleep
I glide above on silent wings
And spy my prey below
Juicy little worms and things
But I'd prefer merlot
So did you keep the cellar locked?
The Thing's escaped again!
The residents are very shocked
They're all saying you're insane.
My clothes are mostly second-hand
But not my knickers and bra
I crocheted them myself from string
D'you think I've gone too far?
I wish I were a ball-cock
A regulating system
Preventing too much water
Do I have to? I thought I had made it easy. An imperfect rhyme, I know, but close enough...
From gettng in your cistern.
The best thing about choc'late
Apart from everything else
Is that it's made of chocolate
And melts at 40 Cels. Bit of a hard rhyme there. Welsh? Bells? Pulse?
The best that we can hope for
This Thursday afternoon
Is that by Thursday fortnight
We again escape our doom.
I wish I were a referee
To lay down right and wrong
To be abused from every side
But at Wembley get a gong
I wish for springtime sooner
Begone, frigiditee! No,not you, m'dear.
The days are getting longer
There'll be honey soon for tea.
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