Don't stand too close - they leap.
If I controlled the weather
I'd have the sun shine every day;
And moonshine every evening till
My liver wouldn't play.
I think I'll leave the country
For a better one by far
One that welcomes foreigners
I'm thinking... Myanmar?
If I had a catapult
I'd gather all the rocks
I'd launch them with a gleeful twang
While standing in my socks
I think I'll buy a mangonel
They're cheap these days, I'm told
I'd mount it on a carousel
And paint the whole thing gold.
When I become emperor Mwa ha ha
Things will change, you'll see
I'll begin to live ex tempora [Rosie] Good enough?
To reach immortality.
(Pablo) Witty but misspelt. (tempore) Sorree!
I wish I were a porn star risque mode
Impressively equipped
My everything quite monsta
Though certain bits are snipped.
I wish I were a traffic jam
Layered gooseberry, orange, and plum
Tasty, sticky immobility
Hmmmnunumnummmuhrrmnum.
If I had an elephant
I'd place him in a room
I'd take care not to mention it
In case it bringeth doom
A honey badger in the loft
Says he doesn't care [oblig]
About the ever-rising floods
Because he isn't there
Koalas ask for drinks from bikers
I think we're all stumped. The rhythm's not right. How about...
When the Drop Bear needs a drink
When the Drop Bear needs a drink
It asks the nearest biker
Who answers thus in dulcet tone:
Sorry, there's none. mercy killing
I wish I were a virus oblig.
To medicine immune
I'd make your atoms into mine
And your DNA subsume.
I cough and sneeze and splutter
And spray my bugs on you
Which makes you think, "What utter
plain ignorance.' It's true.
I contemplate the garden
I do it from my chair
I look at all the rampant weeds
And frankly, I don't care
I've just been down to Waitrose
Where the shelves are bare
But lemongrass and bamboo shoots
Are non-essential fare
I just couldn't live without kale
Sorry, the 'without' puts it into limerick metre. I'll have another go.
I've got to have my kale leaves
Ground into bright green soup
Then seasoned lightly, not too much,
Sounds disgusting gloop
Priceless. But it's not signed "By Simons Mith, aged 7 1/4"?
Nah, my handwriting's not that neat now. It does belatedly occur to me that to protect against future 404s I should have put the poem in as alt text.
I wish I were a drawing
Sketched out with a 6B
My fine sfumato showing
My outline, fuzzily.