mc5 - Pea and Honey Recipes

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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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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 text

Thanks for 'dwarves', Software :)

I wish I were a wharfman

Unlike Lady Docker

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 text

It 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

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