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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 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.
I eat my peas with honey
It makes them taste quite odd
I like it hot and runny
When I spread it on my bod.
I wish I'd bought an iPad
When iPad's were the rage
But now they're quite old-fashioned
And only seem to age!
I wish I'd bought a bullet train
To speed me to and fro
Through the land of rising sun
Express to Tokyo
It is quite grand to contemplate
And think of what might be
Had I'd been born a royal
And used the royal 'we'.
I often use the O.E.D.
To check a definition
But the words I seek are never there
To my consternomition.
The Shorter Oxford Dictionary
Designed for use by dwarves
They play short games of Pictionary
Whilst hiding in their borves
Hidden textThanks for 'dwarves', Software :)
I wish I were a wharfman
For loading in stiletto heels
Clearly off her rocker ... mercy killing - now play nicely please
I've got some nitroglycerine
It makes a loud ka-boom
I keep it in my pantry
And await the Day of Doom
Ensure your cake will always rise
Use lots of baking powder
For taste it may not win the prize
But your farting will be louder Coat!
For best results a pizza stone
Should be heated well
And lightly sprayed with acetone
Before you run like hell
The oven-cleaning fairies
Appear to be on strike
The grease and crud that's there is
Something to dislike
I wish I were an apple core
My pips quite tight within
Growing ripe in Appledore
Before going in the bin
I wish I were a hacker
I'd clear away the wall
And chuck the lot into the skip
Let another take the ball - mercy killing
A mercy killer I would be
So if you're ill, watch out
I'd creep up with my pillow
And cure you of the gout
I wish I were a bookmark
Tucked in a paperback
I'd keep your place like a pro
If memory you lack. Bit awk. Play on chaps.
I wish that it was raining Not, obvs.
There's nowt like getting soaked
But it'll make the grass grow too
And test my mow'r (four-stroked).
It's pen's fault that it's pouring
She did a rain dance in her clogs
But sunshine gets so boring
And she's lovely rainproof togs.
[K, S, me and T] Lovely.
I tweet at lots of TV chefs *I have just had a tweet convo with Valentine Warner. Swoon.*
And they tweet back to me!!!!
They say "At last a gourmet"
let's have a cup of tea
I wish I were a s'lebrity
My face in every rag
Whoring my integrity
It's for money - that's my bag
I wish to see the manager
These shoes are far too tight
He said "Now look 'ere, Bigfoot"
"The cust'mers never right!"
I wish I had my money back
I've been taken for a ride
I've landed up at Fenny Compton
And a part of me just died
I wish I had a picture hook
Upon my picture rail
I'd hang a picture of my mum
... Ah, hell, I'll use a nail
This painted pair of portrait eyes
Watch you around the room
And crinkle up with mirth when you
Go tripping in the gloom Mersea. Next!
I'm glad I'm not a guinea-pig
Testing things bizarre
I don't much want a thingummyjig
Stuck up my chocolate star
Sorry, sorry, sorry!
I'm glad I'm not a plagiarist ...
Of someone else's verses
My own sweat, blood, toil, tears, and grist
Eliminates such curses
I'm glad I'm not a plagiarist ...
My work is all my own
It is not copying, but "homage"
The best stuff but on loan
I wish I were a lady
Then get out those hormone pills
Your new name could be Sadie
And you too could wear frills
I wish I were a gentleman
I'd tip my hat to ladies
I'd wink at all the suffragettes
Who'd curse me back to Hades
I wish I were transgender covering all bases
And could sit down to pee
But that takes balls and mine have gone
Irrevocabably
I've covered all the bases
Potash, lime, ammonia
My scientific nature
Has made my kidneys stonier
It's not the grotty weather
That makes me think of home
For I'm from sunny Timbuktu
And live in a glass dome!
I wish I had a hammer
And nails and four-by-two
A glue-pot, mitre box, and saw
I'd make a box for you
Now get inside this coffin
And I'll nail down the lid
And once you're six feet under
You'll remember what you did!
If I'd been landed gentry
You'd have to bow and scrape
And offer up your daughters
For legally sanctioned and I really don't feel like completing that line.
I deliberately didn't open that door. Moving on...
I've often wondered if it's true
That drinking caustic soda Once a chemist, . . . .
Quite odd consequences has
On one's body odour
I wish I were a postman
Misdirecting all your mail
Bending all your photographs
When letter boxes fail
I wish I were in orbit
Around the planet Saturn
I'd rearrange its many moons
PS Apols for the distasteful "landed gentry" 3rd line on 26/11. I thought someone would come up with a witty dodge of the obvious rhyme, but now it transpires that I can't think of one either!
Into a pleasing pattern. Will that do?
It will indeed, pen, but this new gravity thing everybody's on about will destroy your artwork in an astronomically short time, i.e. less than ten million years.
Hidden textIt is I, Rosie.
I wish I weren't so sleepy
So flatulent, so dull
I think it's down to Brussels sprouts
And long post-Christmas lull
I wish my resolution
Was not so hard to keep
An easier solution
Just give this year a Leap
I'm glad I'm not a dustbin (Chalky) V neat.
Filled with people's trash
The detritus of daily life
Is hard to swop for cash
I'm glad I'm not a hairbrush
Nor, indeed, a comb
'Cos half a ton of dandruff
Calls your head a home eeeuuuuwwww.
Oh take me to the Mardi Gras!
And watch me dance all night
I'll go without my ma and pa
I'd give 'em such a fright.
I used some CSS code
To execute a coup
But my HTMLability
Has put me in the soup
I used to be a sous-chef
That toiled in sweat and steam
Until I poisoned several guests
With scombroid-riddled bream
I wish I were a battery
Imagine all my uses! [Phil] Phwoar, that's a line
Like powering vibrators coat!
That stimulate the juices hat!
So as your paint is drying
You might just make a movie
With music by George Ezra
Appropriately groovy.
I wish I'd been a Beatle
Back in '64
Starring in A Hard Day's Night
As one of the Fab Four
I wish I were a Beetle
With engine at the back
Air cooled engine phut, phut, phut
A hazard on the racetrack.
I wish I were a beetle
A-rolling turds and dung
But rarely are my praises
In church or chapel sung.
I wish I were a pitchfork
With prongs that prod and probe
And perforate and penetrate
Your wellies and your robe I wish I hadn't had to do that
I once slipped on some bladderwrack
While skipping 'cross the rocks
I guess that that will teach me not
To go out crabbing without my socks
I'm glad I'm not a toothypeg
A-lurking in your gob
With a filling having mercury
And a radioactive throb.
I'm pleased I'm not the only one Maybe I am... is anyone else playing?
That roams these ghostly halls
'Cause if I were my lonely song
Would just bounce of the walls.
If I'd been born as Donald Trump
With bucket-loads of cash
I'd get my hair cut properly
So no-one thinks I'm trash
A cuddly little puppy
Is the master of disguise
He first enslaves the populace
With his cute puppy eyes

(to be continued)
His teeny tiny turdies
He drops so dainti-lee
'Till global domination
As he lifts his leg to pee
So - micro pig or microwave?
For sure, the bacon's tiny
But this cuisine's top mystery
Is why the chef's so whiny
I wish I were a spatula
Scraping out your bowl
Trying not to be too flatula
(it's a stretch, sorry)
And Not to be too foul.
I don't want a referendum
'cause I have to make a choice
Should we stay or should we go?
But don't vote for the loudest voice mercy killing
I've mixed up all my tea-bags!
Is this Sencha or Char Sue?
I'll have to take pot luck, it seems hur hur
With my next warming brue
My aerosol is full of foam!
So I took it to a party
I set it off, it was such fun!
Until the host got arsey
The back door to my wardrobe
Leads to somewhere pleasant
But none but me shall know just what
'S my secret way to the Crescent. Was that a hint that the time draws near?
I'm glad I'm not a snooker ball
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