mc5 - Pea and Honey Recipes

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

Simons Mith

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

A-cannon'd 'cross the baize

In a crumbling, shabby snooker hall

Long past the snooker craze.

I'd like to be a simple slug

That lives on lettuce leaves

And not an intellectual one

Cos I'm as thick as thieves

I wish I were an artist

In hip-hop, rap or grime

Like Snoop or Dizzee Rascal

On telly I would mime

I wish I had a stronger voice

Than Andrea Boceli

I wouldn't need a microphone

I'd just give it some welly.

I wish I were a brewer

I'd brew by intuition

And through my kilt - a bonny filter -

Make fuel for self-ignition

I wish I were a poet's muse

To help him from confusion

Inspiring people like Ted Hughes

Who couldn't rhyme for toffee

Mmmm....toffee.....

I wish that I'd known Sylvia Plath

And what it was that depressed her

So lead her down my primrose path

So maybe she would have felt much better

I wish I was a messenger

Telegram in hand

To warn of your investiture

As fairest in the land. [pen] Well rhymed.

I wish I were a lightning bolt [Raak] Ta. I had to 'do research'.

That lights the thunderhead

I'd strike you where it hurts the most

When in your marriage-bed!

One really should be careful

When taunting grizzly bears

Not to mention woodland

Where it leaves its wares

I'm glad I'm not a toothpick

A-poking tushypegs

Getting chewed and rather slimy

A-poking round for dregs That'll do.

I wish I were a lumberjack Shut up at the back.

That leapt from tree to tree

I'd hold my chopper in my hand Steady on ...

And wield it lustily

A lumberjack, or lumberjill

Which would I rather be?

I'm lucky to have got the choice

Fluid gender - that is me

I'm going on my holiday

I'd better tell my boss

The whole team's coming with me

'Cos they don't give a toss

I wish I were in Switzerland

Where I've stashed my loot

Instead I'm stuck in Lichtenstein

A tax haven too to boot

I'm just a gnome in Zurich

Amassing piles of gold

Hiding it most secretly

Until this rhyme gets old More than a week without a last line, folks. Time for it to go.

It'll all be held in secret

Grey suits in smoke-filled rooms

The guns are on the table

While they're eating magic 'shrooms Mercy killing, innit.

I wish I were an actor

A star of the West End

I'd call myself 'Evadne'

Who's paid for 'Let's pretend'.

What is it about recent third lines that caused a promising start to peter out?
My recipe for Christmas cake

Is mostly stout and gin

The Christmas pudding that I'll make

'll have none of the above in. hic!

Some doggerel for Friday

Is what we chiefly need

To help forget the current mess

Let good times be decreed! .

A frog is in my pocket

And out it wants to leap

gil

I'm tempted just to lock it

Up tightly in The Keep

Neat

What I really want for Christmas

Would tell you quite a lot

About the piss-poor State of Things

That pertain in Camelot!

I wish I'd reached enlightenment

Before I bought that drink

Such clarity of thought has gone

That Nirvana's on the blink.

I wish I'd bought some fishing line

Because now I cannot cast

To catch these drones that spy on me

gil

(I wish I hadn't asked.)

If I'd been born a reindeer

I'd fear all polar bears and covalent ones

But since I am a penguin

gil

I know them bears ain't there

Dawn came up like thunder

Noon brought raging sun

The sky was rent asunder

By an angry Kim Jong Un.

I wish that I liked Christmas

But I'm a grouchy sod

Who waits til it's all over

Proclaiming "Oh, thank God"

I wish than I liked whisky *hypothetically obvs*

'Cos I've got twenty litres

I'm told it makes one frisky

But I like margaritas

I have no favourite cocktail

I'll drink just anything

Pass the paraffin, say I

To me it tastes like gin

Now Hogmanay is ending

The Haggis will get stale

So Burns' Night was invented

To use up cakes and ale

I wish I were a porcupine

Tho' I'd still be just as spiky

Cos unable to recline supine

Would lose you sleep, by crikey! You do it next time then!

The boy stood on the burning deck _{time for an old traditional}

There was panic all around

The hairs were signed around his neck this one might run for a few verses

But still he stood his ground.

He shouted to the Captain,

My smartphone's up the spout

But the Captain didn't give a toss

He'd already gotten out.

I don't need much for dinner

A loaf of bread will do

And just a little caviar

You know, that fishy goo.

I wish I'd been a buccaneer

Sacking galleons and cities

An enterprising privateer

Saying "Ha-harrr" and whistling ditties.

The Budget sets our spending

Unless we're rolling in it innit?

It is sure to increase lending

By 14p a minute.

If I were riding on a train

That called at Clapham Junction

Onto the tracks below I'd drain

Knobbly

My bowels, without compunction. pretty much oblig.

[Knobbly] I suspect that you, me and Rosie were probably ad idem on that one. Not sure about pen.

Simons Mith

I let out such a holler

That it woke th'Antipodes

I'd lost my final dollar

Simons Mith

To arbitration fees

I wish I had a hobby horse

That I could ride around on;

One I had purchased second-hand

But it was bro-kon<

Hidden text

Yes, I know, a ridiculous stretch there

The Ancient Mariner went by

Waitrose on his way

To pick up twenty artichokes

And twenty bales of hay.

My ancient Marina still goes

Like an elephant in its last throes

If those aren't the first two lines of a limerick I'm a baobab tree

Oops.

Which is what happened and where it happened way back in 1973.
Rosie, you don't half set some tricky scansion.

(Bismarck) Well, it's clerihew, isn't it?

I wish I were a mariner

So I could stop a wedding guest

Hidden text

If that last one was simultaneously a limerick, a clerihew and a bad quatrain, we have reached unforeseen heights. Or depths.