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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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I'd go and do those boisterous things
While being rather stroppy.
But after I had adolesced
I took things much more seriously
I opened books and aced the tests
And chased the girls ingeniously.
Advancing age has done me well
My knees are holding up
I've still got hair, but time will tell
That my heart needs a tuneup.
I wish I had a bus pass
I'd travel all day long
'Tho I'd have nowhere to go
I'd sing this happy song:

< mode=song >
The sun shines on the dickie birds
The sun shines on the ants
The sun shines on my privates
'Cos I'm not wearing any pants.
[Raak]
Hidden textI had a horrible feeling someone might miss the opportunity. Phew!
*laughs out loud - like, really LOUD*
I wish it were tomorrow night [Phil] If you were worried, how do you think I felt? I chose my line with that fourth line in mind, but I wasn't holding my breath.
Today seems just so dull [CdM] Well done, sir!
But then, I may not make it
Through one more day in Hull. [CdM,Phil] Your humble servant.
I've always liked the circus
Where threadbare lions roar [Raak] And another excellent last line. Would it be tempting fate to say you're on a roll?
From reverie they jerk us (Shuddup at the back over there in the US).
As through our limbs they gnaw
I wish I were upon the beach
Atop a sandy dune
A glass of beer within my reach
And you, my dear, to spoon
If I had a lot of time [S, C, R, p] Aww.
This coyness, lady, were no crime
But hark! Time's chariot hurries near
So let's get on with it, my dear. Sorry, couldn't resist.
If all the seas were suncream
The fish would squirm and splutter
And if the Alps were made of toast
I'd spread them with snow butter
If you and I were ponies
We'd have a trick or two
We'd dance like Darcey Bussell
With fetlocks en tendu
If 2 and 2 made twenty-two
Two twos would make it too
And two ones too, when timesed by two
I don't give a sod, do you?
[SW] Actually I do. Spoilsport. And after your elegant finale to the last one ... :(
If I woke up with great big wings
I'd take a look at higher things it still fits with the rhyme scheme, AABB,
From somewhere in the stratosphere
For I am bold. What matters fear?
I wish I had an ice cold beer [Chalks] sorry, sorry, sorry
To slake my sun-baked thirst
A lovely glass of Budweiser [Now you're upsetting the real ale nuts. :-) Ice cold is how you serve American horse piss, because at 0° you can't taste how horrible it is.]
With CO2 I'll burst. BURP! (SM) Why on earth do people do it?
If you served that ice-cold muck
I'd assume it was a joke
With such stuff I'll have no truck
I'll stick to rum and coke
Happy hour will soon be here
I'll therefore order double
So whiskey whiskey beer beer
And tons of Dubble Bubble
Hidden textoops forgot this
I'm glad I'm not a snowflake
For if I was I'd melt
For all of my uniqueness
Could no longer be felt.
I'd rather be inside than out
And up instead of down
The Burj Khalifa's just the place
To enjoy a meaningless poem that doesn't scan, rhyme, or make any sense.

ahem ..
I'd rather be inside than out
And up instead of down
The Burf Khalifa's just the place
A jewel in Dubai's crown
[Chalky] Well done!
My birthday is over quite soon
Hidden text2 minutes, I believe
And I am still quite sober
I'm in the center of the room
Hidden textWhat was the deal with that last line, Botherer? Chalkly completed that poem quite well! Are you bitter?
Alone until October
Now this one really IS a hotchpotch of dodgy scansion, rhyme & sense :) [Raak & Kagome] Ta
Hidden textKS my apologies, I misread the scansion of your first line as a limerick! It does work as one, if you try hard enough... and I'm often told I'm very trying!
If Botherer had half a brain
The other half being mine
With Chalky's looks, and Néa's books
We'd have a real good time
The child of such a union
Stands very little chance
Of Anglican Communion
Or learning how to dance.
I wish I were a tube train
In tunnels I'd find joy
I lost her there a week ago
Amongst the hoi polloi.
Hidden text"the hoi polloi" is one of those constructions I normally try to avoid, like "PIN Number" and "ATM machine", as "hoi" means "the", but I'll claim poetic licence on this occasion
(Phil) What about "foot pedal" and "safe haven"? :-)
[Rosie] "foot pedal" is ghastly, "safe haven" I don't have such a problem with, as the "refuge" sense appears to be only 800 years old, much younger than the original meaning of "harbour". Distantly related to the Welsh "Aber-", I wonder, even though we both know that means "estuary"?
I'm glad I'm not an omnibus
A-stopping and a-starting (Phil) "Aber" also means "confluence", of which there are many examples. Confirmed by Y Geiriadur Mawr, "The Big Dictionary".
Cruising in polluted fug
With exhaust fumes a-farting.
Were I an oxymoron [Softers, Rosie] I'm wondering whether there is a game to be had out of your discussion.
I'd be so bittersweet [Kim] are you mixing me up with Softers?
With logical emotion
I'd be blatantly discreet. (Phil) I reckon so. (Kim) I don't think it would run very long but could be worth a try.
I'd love to mix a metaphor
In my electric blender
A sumptuous verbal cocktail that
Is the Colemanballs agenda.
C, R, K, R - very splendid. Rhyming, scanning and funning.
A cocktail of artistic styles Don't panic - this can scan & rhyme A, A, B, B
Cubist, batik and tiles If you say so, Miss. *quakes*
Will create illusion
And confusion. Um.
I'm stealing all the openings
And me the scond lines (Softers, Raak) That's quite clerihewish. Shall we have a Clerihew game?
I'll half-inch one 'e' in five
And I'll just issue fines.
I've knocked pen off her perch
And now await her wrath
I'll meet it by yon silver birch - [Rosie] Clearly you're asking the wrong people - I say yes let's!
In ashes and sackcloth
I wish I spoke Hungarian
Bolivian or Urdu
Instead of Rastafarian
Here in Eglwyswrw
Can you confirm it's Thursday?
I've suddenly lost faith
I'll let you know tomorrow
If it comes back as a wraith .. somewhat limited opportunities for a noteworthy Line 4. Sorry.
My thister wath a lithper
They thay that I wath too
Tho I thpeak in a whithper (Chalky) Ahem, thithter.
My thithter thouts through her thoe
Oh FFTh! Thcanthion ruined again :(
*sigh*
Let's try again ..
I find it hard to woll my r's
- My hips are much too stiff
So maybe my new implants
Will make me sound like Cliff Wichard
[Pen] "Move", surely?
With lips as big as Jagger's
And hips like Elvis P
The hands of Paganini
What a sexy freak I'd be!
Autumn leaves are turning brown
Bikini prices coming down
Winter woollies trending up
Then the sodding FA Cup.
I hope I'll rhyme ABAB
Like 'glow-worms' mostly do
I'm not a freakish rhyme, you see
My name's penelope.
A house divided cannot stand
If walls are made of paper
And living in a house of glass
Is not my kind of caper. I seem to have cocked up the last one rather gormlessly.
I'm glad that I'm not Rosie Indeed - I'm amazed you got away with it, frankly :-)
For he's got a girly name [Rosie, Phil] Assumed it was an example of postmodernistic irony ..
His real one? Don't be nosey
That'd spoil his claim to fame
I wish the House of Tudor
Were not so full of beams
Its workmanship is cruder
It comes loose at the seams.
Thus fell the House of Usher
With all-pervading gloom
'Twas worse than Soviet Russia
But filmed - as was 'Khartoum' - which also fell.
[Chalky] I always thought they should make an animated version.
I'm glad I'm not Vince Cable
I really really am
It's sad that he's not able
To plug the cashflow dam
I wish I had an air balloon
I'd fly above your house
Sing love songs like a right buffoon
Until you are my spouse
I hate the thought of housework
It makes me quake with fear
Thank goodness for my Dyson®
And my maid from South Korea. Guffawed at the balloon one - cheers Pen/Phil
I have a pip stuck in my teeth I giggled at the housework one. I'm 50% there.
(That's too much information)
I think it's time for flossing
And a quick expectoration
I wish I were a garden rake Shut up at the back.
A snag-toothed tidier-upper
I'd lie hidden in the grass
A slapstick tripper-upper.
I wish I had a pint of beer
Just like Nigel Farage
I'd drink it down most publicly
There's nowt to disparage Can we stop trying to rhyme things with 'Farage'? It limits the potential of t'rhymes. Ta v much.
When motorists are naughty
I give them one quick toot
And shout "You're doing forty" (pen) I wasn't. First appearance of Mr UKIP in this game.
On the motorway to boot
I wish I were on holiday
Boating on the Kennett
Just sitting back and reading prose
Or scripts from Alan Bennett
If only I were twenty [Rosie] Pen may have been thinking of Mr. Farage's recent appearance in one of the limerick games.
And callow in my ways
I'd dream of lands of plenty
And my many different lays coat!
If I were only forty
I'd be half what I am now
Though not in age, let it be said
I'm just fat - and how!
If I should stumble over
And need help getting up
To hire a crane is rather rude
But sorry - needs must - yup! ... notably few rhymes for 'up'
My waistline is expanding
Oh, what a brave admission
My feet are slow shrinking
With every inch addition
The time has come for action
A fitness plan perhaps
Holds less of an attraction
Than deep-fried bacon baps
I have no time for deadlines
I've better things to do
Like read a book or solve some crimes
Or pop off to the loo
[SM] I genuinely spent over five minutes manfully resisting "loo" and "poo". Congratulations on giving in to your inner schoolboy :-)
I wish I were a toilet roll (Phil) Same here, largely because I thought I'd give you a go. Imagine my disappointment, though SM has valiantly maintained the tradition.
The hard kind, not the soft Oh-er, memories of school
Sitting unused is the goal
So stash it in the loft.
The phoenix' cry is rarely heard Let's try and raise the tone a bit.
A song so cold and bleak
For it is an ornery bird
And someone glued its beak. There's classy ...
I took a class in classic art
I now know Bosch from Dürer
But the paintings in my pantry
Are somewhat more obscurer
Pre-Raphaelite is more my thing
It's simply more expressive
Dante and his art-for-art
And ladies part-undressive
The cubists' art is thus defined:
Abstract with no perspective
Which makes it look less like the real
And more like the subjective.
All art is tosh, I would opine
Except for this piece by Divine
.. are we venturing into limerickese?
[Chalky] My line can swing either way
Raphael, portraying Madonna
With very few garments upon 'er. Sorry, I don't usually double-post, but it seemed right. Also, if you substitute "I'd" for "I would" in the first line, it scans quite nicely.
I wish I were a grease gun
Hidden textBang, bang; you're slippery.
To you nipple I'd be put
I'd keep your bearings running free
With mayhem underfoot
The joy of lubrication
Is lost on all my friends
They much prefer fixation
Of all their bits and ends.
The benefits of friction
Should not be understated
Since rubbing up the wrong way
Can make me quite elated
He recommended traction [Phil] hehe
And an orthopaedic brace [R, p, P] I was thinking about "The use of prophylactics/ being highly over-rated", but didn't want to triple-post.
I had the satisfaction
Next week they hear my case
I came across this thoughtful item and decided to share it with you. It's a lyric from a song by Dory Previn.>
We never stop to wonder
Until a person's gone
We never yearn to know him
Until he's travelled on
[Software] Splendid 4th line. I was expecting something like "Of pummelling his face", but yours was much better :-)
The art of writing lyrics
When all is said and done
Depends upon the music
And the 'Dum-de-dum-de-dum' I think I've got the metre right, even if it's not a perfect rhyme...
[pen] Do you know the Monty Python sketch about Denis Moore? It's apposite.
I'm very fond of lupins
And shrubberies are nice
But best of all are cacti
Distilled and served with ice
My brother is a tailor he's actually a programmer. worked on the 'Halo' game franchise.
He sewed my new blue jeans 'Sun-up Alterations, Zips Mended While-U-Wait'>
My father was a gambling man
Way down in Whitmore Reans
My papa was a preacher man
And so was Billy Ray's
When he stole kisses from me
I was young - it was a phase.
I close my eyes and count
To ten - that was the plan
Alas I fell asleep at six
Finish for me if you can
I wish I were an aardvark
First in the alphabet
Alas I am a zebra
But ahead of the zzxjoanw yet.
Qaanaaq is in Greenland
Its night life must be seen
This requires a microscope
So you must be very keen
I wish I were a chimney sweep
I'd sing 'Chim-chim-chereeee!'
I'd talk in mangled Cockney
And shout "'ello Mary!"
I wish I could be thinner
Say, butyl acetate
Or maybe min'ral spirits
Your shine off I would take
Merry Christmas Everybody!
Good cheer to one and all!
While there's still some hot toddy
Let's drink it 'til we fall!
It's Boxing Day in Canada
They're fighting in the streets
And if a hockey match breaks out
The day will be complete(s)!
I had a little nut tree
I often used to beat it
But it never bore a single nut
I think that I've been cheated.
I wish I were a rain-gauge
Overflowing in a storm
So full I can't contain myself
As I'm not cribriform
I have a little puppy
It loves to play with me
It's scoffed my little guppy
And quaffed my Earl Grey tea.
The Yanks are playing "Super Bowls"
They sometimes touch the ball
They've so much armor (sic) plating
They don't feel pain at all
I wish I were a scaffolder
That leapt from pole to pole
Shunning 'elf'n'safety
But never on the dole.
I wish I were a glazier
'Cos I like playing with putty
Hidden textI'd also buy a football club, if you can call 'em that.
I'd build a pyramid out of glass
Hidden textRosie, they're called *teams.* I do at least know that much about hand egg, er I mean American Football.
Then stop for tea and butty
I wish I were a pot-hole
I'd bugger your suspension
As you splash every passer-by
Increasing local tension
They wish we had more tea cakes
They wish we had more tea
They wish we had facilities
So they could have a wee I bet there's a Japanese word for 'being disappointed with a cafe'`
They wish we opened later
To satisfy their needs
Alas, we cannot cater
To their incessant greeds. Sorry, cafe's closed for lunch.
I wish I were a bookie
I'd gather all your cash
And pay for lots of nookie
Rum, sodomy and lash
I wish I were a seaman
'Cos I can go "Ha - harrrr!"
A salt-encrusted demon
Emerging from the haar
I wish I were an athlete
I'd run or jump or throw
Unless I was in Sotchi
With two toilets in a row
I wish, when I was younger,
I'd done as I was told
Avoided all the sex and drugs
N'eer straying from the fold
I wish that I had listened
To my teachers when they said
The name with which you're christened
You'll be called when you're dead.
Which reminds me of the rhyme:
They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead
I never knew your proper name was Heraclitus, Fred.
When I am gone and changed my name [P, K, R, R and R - marvellous. More please.]
I hope I'll be remembered
For all the thing's I haven't done
Not the bodies I've dismembered apols
While I'm alive and kicking
And working as a plumber (pen) Can't stop giggling.
With call-out rates extortionate
And clients ever-dumber
I'll quote three times the going rate
I'll drink my weight in tea
I'll say your loo is dodgy, mate
I'll flash my arse for free.
Today we need to dig a hole
Then fill it in again
At least it keeps us off the dole
And considered working men.
I wish I were a bobsleigh
Taking bends at speed
Tipping out my passengers
I'm spiteful, yes indeed
Thank you for your custom
It says here on the bill
We'd like to know of problems
And hope you won't be ill.
I wish I were a writer
I'd write all sorts of things
Some of which are shiter I axshully am a writer for money
Than Tolkein's lordly rings.
I wish I were a zombie
Arising from the grave
In a dust-strewn woollen Crombie
I nicked from Chas and Dave.
I wish I were an angler
Slowly drowning worms
With my stick and dangler
My patience this affirms. (pen, Chalky, penpenult. Splendid.)
I wish I were a stevedore
Working on the docks
"Accidentally" damaging
Containers' “thief-proof” locks.
If I were not a petty thief Sorry - that's the third one in a row now.
A politician I would be
"Blame immigrants" my leitmotif
Who should be kicked back o'er the sea.
If I could be who e'er I chose  Four now ☺
I'd be the King of Wales
And wear tights all colored rose
While guzzling Trappist Ales.
I wish I were a criminal
That heaved a bag marked "SWAG"
Eschewing texts subliminal
And shackled with a tag
I wish I were a hobbit
With hairy size-12 feet
Instead I'm like John Bobbitt
An earthling incomplete
I'm glad I am a Briton
For a Brit it's best to be
But only a few can fit on
A pin head comf'tably
I crave a piece of chocolate cake
Filled with gooey cream
For wholesome fats and carbs I ache
I'm rather broad of beam oblig.
My waistline is expanding
It surely can't be age
That makes the act of standing
Lead to impotent rage
I wish I were a tea-cup
The finest Wedgwood kind
From which the gentry might sup
A potion most refined. Not Co-op teags, then.
A biscuit fit for dipping I avoided using 'dunking'. You can thank me later
Is flavourful and firm
But cover it with dripping
See hardened dunkers squirm *later* Thank you pen :)
If I were a cartoonist
With loaded, painty brush
I'd paint a young balloonist
In youth's initial flush
And if I'd been born Rembrandt
I'd not be posting here
No self-respecting self-portraitist
would expose himself I fear swiftly moving on ...
This talk of Old Dutch Masters
Has bored me quite to tears
But Romanesque pilasters was trying to make a line about Amsterdam S&M bars, but couldn't quite get the rhyme to work
Stunned even Wackford Squeers
If you refer to Dickens
Which I'm sure you often do
Then please, don't cite “Darles Chickens”
Lest Spooner, he might sue.
Bravo!
If I were made of rubber
I'd drink like fat Bibendum
And yet still ask for more
Oh, would that I were smart
Enough to pass a Mensa test
I'd need not work at labouring
I'd be smarter than the rest.
There's nothing in my pension pot
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.
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
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
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
(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
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
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.
I let out such a holler
That it woke th'Antipodes
I'd lost my final dollar
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 textYes, 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 textIf that last one was simultaneously a limerick, a clerihew and a bad quatrain, we have reached unforeseen heights. Or depths.
From smashing up the porringer
And spilling gravy down his chest
I wish I were a gavy boat
*gravy
And not a gravy train
Then scruffy kids would sniff me
And not use me for gain.
I think I see the reason
Why I'm such a slob
Cos whate'er be the season
I never get a job
I'd love to be a Vandal
Smashing things for fun
Hidden text(Raak) Did you mean "I'd love to have been a Vandal"?
Hidden text[Rosie] Good Scansion gives +1 to Poetic License.
But I was born Attila
Just the day job for a Hun.
The movies that I have not seen
I also have not heard
And subtitles have never been
The last and final word
V. nice...!
I wish I were a photon
Going at the speed of light
My local time would never change
But relatives' just might
This rhyming lark is really great!
It's better than a parrot
Which is dead in any case
From overdose of claret Thanks for the parrot rhyme challenge, Simons, I was determined not to carrot it.
O for the wings of a dove!
To escape the malevolent hawk
So somebody give me a shove
And look away while I squawk.
pen, I can think of ferret, garret, and merit right off . . .
I should have picked the mynah bird :-)
But watch out for that beak!
Its repertoire is quite absurd [KS] I'll give you ferret/merit and parrot/garret (almost) but there are no other relations by rhymeration at all in that bundle o' words.
That's why it is not cheep!
Yes, "beak" and "cheep" are perfect rhymes. In a sense. Which I have just made up.
(pen, penult) I know you don't live in a garrett but have you driven any of these monsters?
My boyfriend drives a Monster Truck
A redneck through and through Perhaps generalising unfairly, but this is poetry, not real-life
He votes for Trump and says "Yee-haw!" ditto
And is fluent in Urdu.
A Monday morning task for me
Is started in the afternoon;
This may seem paradoxical
But Mondays come around too soon. Mercy
I think somebody's pulling the wool
Now then, Mr Software, how many feet does a glow-worm have? de-Dum de-Dum de-Dum Dum, remember? I wish I were a glow worm. So...

I think somebody's pulling

The wool over our eyes
'Cos we know what they're up to
Despite the lizards' lies.
(UN-altered REPRODUCTION and DISSEMINATION of this IMPORTANT Information is ENCOURAGED, ESPECIALLY to COMPUTER BULLETIN BOARDS.)
Un-altered reproduction
No mutations, please
Hidden textEven in Welsh
Important information
Online, not on trees.
I wish I were a bouncer
Like my friend Zebedee
I'd round them up for bedtime
"Brush teeth and have a pee!"
In Glasgow there was a cow
Ee-aye-ee-aye-oh
Sadly, it isn't there now
so I just won't go
I wish I could do scansion
Just like a real poet
But do you know what?
I tend to write whatever rhymes and just add a line below it.
I wish I were a lemur
With a stripy, fluffy tail
I'd hang around the jungle
And drink a pint of ale.
I've never been to Glasgow
Nor said "Och aye the noo"
Because I live in Edinburgh
And have a broader view.
I wish I were a Scotsman
I'd eat haggis every day
And many a deoch an doruis
Would send me on my way.
I wish I were a Geordie
Just like Ant or Dec
I'd pretend to be all cheery
While miserable as feck. soz
I wish I weren't a Yankee       I prefer the demonym "Yinzer" these days
Well, mate, try being Welsh (drqu) According to Wikipaedia that refers to Pittsburgh only, whereas Yankee.....
Or festering or manky This one seems to have taken a terrible turn. Sorry about that
Just like Sir Toby Belsh. tch...
(Kim) What are my initials doing sitting there after your posting? Would you like my phone number?
(Tch) No, but you can have mine if you can suggest a word that rhymes with "Welsh".
Now Lloyd George knew my father
Father knew him back See what I did there?
But Lloyd George would rather
Scratch at his itchy sack! (sorry not sorry...)
Losing pluck on a slack afternoon I want to go home to tea and the sofa
The arms of Morpheus beckoned (Kim) Um, er .... Not one of my better ones. (Giertud) My mother met LLoyd George.
The metre's slightly wonky
I was tireder than I'd reckoned
I wish I were a fairy But knowing my luck I'd be like Mavis in Willo the Wisp.
With Edna as my foe [pen] What a great programme.
[Superman] L G actually did know my great-grandfather.
I'd dance upon the flowers
Then stamp upon your toe
I wish I were an ombudsman
At bureaucrats I'd glower
And rap their knuckles till they bled
Because I'd have that power!
I wish I had a sailboat
To sail the Seven Seas
But hang on, I get seasick
In the slightest breeze.
I wish I lived in Yorkshire.
On Ilkley Moor I'd roam
Neglecting hypothermia
Baht 'at I'd ne'er come home.
I wish I were a busker
Showing all my artistic skill
By plucking my guitar strings
On top of Blueberry Hill.
I wish I were a busker's cap
Filling up with money
I'd please my strumming partner
'Cos 'e needs the ackers, du'n 'e?
I wish I had three wishes
And three wishes for each wish
And so on ad infinitum
Very genie-ish.
I wish that I'd been Guy Fawkes
With gunpowder, treason and plot
'Cos I would have succeeded
'Cos it turned out, he did not.
The natives all get restive
About this time of year
They're unready to be festive
And won't even drink beer.
I do enjoy an autumn gale The Xmas-tree-in-a-pot fell over this morning
That blows the leaves clear off the trees Here it carried the fumes from the burning waffle factory over the South of the city.
The birds don't need a winter home.
So let them freeze their knees
I wish I felt like working
But sadly I do not
I've spent the whole day shirking
And haven't done a jot.
I wish I were a Christmas elf
A slave in Santa's grotto
Keeping dark thoughts to myself
And working 'cos I've got to.
I wish I had a sinecure
I'd like to do f*ck all
I'd be just like a Tory
As in the House I sprawl.
A good cure for stomach ache
Is hair of t'dog that bit you
I don't mean too much Christmas cake
Or else your clothes won't fit you.
My New Year's resolution
Is not the usual thing
It's to find a solution
To all this Brexiting. [ Oblig., and with apologies for posting out of turn.]
I'm going to be a hermit
'Cos I'm an ugly sod
Unless it needs a permit Phew - only took me threre days to trhink of something that wasn't 'Kermit'
To sit upon yer tod.
I wish I were a traffic light
In Balham's High Road, yon
I'd stop all the birds in flight
But would then be sh*t upon
I'm not a first line hogger
The second's fine for me
Then again I am a blogger
Of abysmal poetry
I wrote some poems lately
I think they're rather good
The metre goes sedately
Like semolina pud.
I wish I were a trochee
Such a wild ambition!
But my metre would be far too short
And never reach fruition
The night was dark and stormy
Inside, the fire was bright
A glass of fine Old Tawny
Helped set the world aright.
The day was fresh and breezy
The trees danced in the wind
Spring's just around the corner
Let gloves and hats be binned.
The temperature dropped slowly
Defying hopes of Spring
So back out with the woollies
Not my idea of bling.
I treat my fleas with honey
I loan them to my wife
It costs her lots of money
She says "Oi Vey! My Life!"
When supping with The Devil
I use my longest spoon
The one that is quite runcible
To offer him a prune.
When taking tea with Mater
I always add some milk.
So let me call the waiter
Or someone of that ilk.
I need a new T.V. set
To watch new TV shows
My eyes will need a reset
I stared so much they froze
I want to be with people
Intent on revolution
Not lie down with the sheeple
And hope for absolution.
I wish to make a statement
Of my own theorEE
That laws on noise abatement
Should be sung pp.
My piano is a monster
That lives beneath my bed
My mother says it haunts her
It plays inside her head.
I cannot wear this headscarf
As I have misplaced my head
And so, because I'm headless
I think I must be dead.
I wish I were a drawing pin
Holding up a drawing
'Cos I love it when you push me in
And change my cool to 'thawing' Have I denied someone else a go at rhyming this? Soz...
I wish I could procrastinate
I'll practise it some day
But when I get around to it [Kim - nice :)]
I wish I had a parakeet
I'd chat to it all day
It wouldn't get a word in, and
I have a lot to say
I wish I had a wind turbine
To place atop this hill
To generate some leccy and
Sell it to Brazil.
Brazilian electricity
Just sambas through the wires
Its elegant lubricity
Shines as bright as fires.
Definitely crispworthy, that one.

Is your fire dull and lethargic?

[If that's not glow-wormy enough, feel free to kick it to the kerb.]
If so, it needs more draught I could do with a good draught
Anoint it with some spagyric
(The fan of alchemistic craft) Owwwww.
Hmm, let's try to get back to some good meter and rhyme here . . . hopefully.

If I had an ardvark
I'd set a leopard on it being basically a nasty sod
But as it's armour plated
[Software] As what is armour plated?
(Kim) Shurely the aardvark.
The leopard might not wannit.
I quite liked that one.
Yes, you can bring a leopard to an aardvark, but...
If I had a leopard
And took it for a walk
I then would be in jeopard'
And passers-by would squawk.
[Rosie, Software] But there is no aardvark. The aardvark is merely conjectural. A merely conjectural aardvark cannot be armour-plated.
(Kim) Logically, a conjectural aardvark may take any form whatever within the confines of overall aardvarkiness. It is my contention that such limits do not exclude armour plating or, indeed, a chastity belt.
[Rosie] Agreed, but then ipso facto the armour would also be conjectural.
[Kim]. Nooo, if it wasn't for the chastity belt, then the amour is conjugal.
I don't regret my snarkiness
In fact, it makes me proud
With just one pithy put-down, I [Pen: agreed, but for successful conjugation you have to be in the right mood.]
I stand above the crowd
I wish I were a chainsaw
Zig-zagging through a pine Dutch for 'saw' (n.) is zaag innit.
Instead I'm just a plain saw
Cutting through a vine
I wish I were a genie [pen] I love these linguistic things... Thanks for your "zaagacity"
To grant your every wish
As long as it was weenie
Cos I am skint. Well, -ish.
I rubbed the lamp with vigour
Its magic to arouse
Its puff of smoke grew bigger
As modesty allows.
An apparition formed
Then coughed amidst the smoke
"What the hell's this all about?"
"Is this some kind of joke?
"Here, try this can of Brasso"
"You'll find it's just the thing"
One drop in your espresso
Will start you vomiting
Hidden textSeriously, folks, don't drink Brasso - er, don't - https://jerrychicken.wordpress.com/2008/02/04/brasso-and-its-intoxicating-qualities/
Well, that's not what I wanted
I wonder what went wrong?
I wanted twenty Bensons
Not George and his love song
I'm glad I'm not a buffalo
I'd rather bison be
But either way I'm horny
So, I think I'll hump this tree.
An aardvark is a silly pet
I'd rather have a pig;
They're brainy; I would talk to it (KagomeShuko) Ace filth. Ardderchog yn wir
And find a whirligig
I'm glad I'm not a Tory
As I read in the "Mail"
The Brexit backstop story
Is now the Holy Grail Er, whatever that means
I love to take cold showers
A masochist, that's me
I feel like Austin Powers
But look like Mr T
I wish that I were clever
Like Carol Vorderman
But sadly I am dosy
So I do just what I can Mercy killing
The season is upon us
To spend a load of dosh
I've bought 47 presents
From Harrods 'cos I'm posh
If you need a reason
Why I'm standing here like this
The cubicles are taken up
And I'm bursting for a p*ss Well, someone had to
Inspired by an encounter with a few uncommon words...

If you chance to feel fatigue
All you need's a little feague
Leave egrote and all uhtceare
There's nothing quite like being heare.

feague: to thrust a live eel up a horse's fundament; generally, to excite or jolly along.
egrote: to feign sickness as an excuse for not working.
uhtceare: pre-dawn anxiety regarding the forthcoming day.

I have a cheap thesaurus
An inexpensive low-priced book
It's economical to use
Just open it, and look
All my hair's now orange
Dichromate Dierdre, that's me
I'm bang on trend says Twitter
Like Trump, I'm perfect, see
I wish I were a journalist
Writing porky pies Like Boris Johnson
And very conscientiously
Crossing T's and dotting I's.
I have no need for artifice
My beauty's clear to all
Untainted e'en by dentifrice
I await the curtain call
I wish I were a washing-line
Instead I'm just strung out
Perhaps a glass of summer wine
Would help cure me of gout.
I think I'll take a holiday
In Bali or Majorca
Just somewhere warm and sunny
And some distance from my stalker
I went to see the rodeo
To watch the broncos bucking careful ...
And after that excitement
I was knackered, so no fucking. (Juxt) Great care taken
I wish I were an MEP
Poking fun at Farage
And in the Strasbourg cafes
I'd swerve the milkshake barrage
I wish I were an astronaut
'Cos I'd love astronauting
Wow, that zero gravity
Can be really quite exhausting
I wish I were B. Johnson
And lived in No. 10
Then I'd really f*ck the country up
'Cos I'm a pathogen
Phew, here comes a heatwave
It really isn't fair
The gents perspire, the ladies glow
The nannies merely glare.
I wish I had the confidence
To tell you what I think
Instead, I have the diffidence
To say, "Let's have a drink!"
Let's raise a glass to pen today
A glass a-brim with cheer
Normality is back - hooray!
Unless I have to pay
My garden is a wilderness
And carefully neglected
I'm lacking in green fingeredness
Since I became elected.
They'll never overthrow me
'Cause I weigh 200 lbs
They could bring in the heavies, though
That is out of bounds. mercy killing
I tried to bowl a googly
The batsman was not fooled
He whacked it straight back to me
But 'no ball' was what was ruled.
I'm glad I'm not a bus stop
On a lonely country road
As transport hub I've reached the top
An "important transport node" Hooray!
I'm glad I'm not in parliament
It seems more like a zoo
There's an eagle and a johnber cow oh dear oh dear sorry sorry
That's often heard to moo.
It's time to fetch an adult
The kids do run amok
You'd think at least the House of Lords
Would give a flying fuck pretty much forced, I think
The days are drawing in now
Soon winter will be here
Hibernation is an option
I'll see you all next year.
Switch on the Bluetooth speaker
THEN TURN THE VOLume down
Or else your ears will hiss all night
Because your eardrums' blown
I feed my fish on plastic
They like it lightly fried
They eat and eat and eat and eat
They were fine, until they died.
If something seems a bit awry
Just go back to bed
It'll be alright in the morning
Or if not, I'll be dead.
I found this Roman candle
Burning very bright
But when it gave a sudden phut
I dropped the thing in fright
I wish I had the aptitude
To fix a leaking tap
But my handiness with spanners
Is, alas, just crap I have taken the liberty of putting this one out of its misery.
I wish I had a castle
With a moat both wide and deep
I'd stock it up with crocodiles
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
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
There Was a Cat

I'd like to claim I'd illustrated it myself but that won't fool anyone.
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.
[pen] Lovely ending. Doffs hat and bows.

A muse that's soft and furry

But lightning fast of paw
Always ends up blurry
Crunched by a feline's jaw.
I wish I were a Spring day
However unpredictable
In the sunshine, I would play.
Till rain uncontradictable.
I wish I were a foggy morn
Silent, cold and still
Dead bodies strewn o'er meadow's dawn
It's just the birds that kill.
I test my eyes by driving
In thickest fog at night;
I haven't had a pile-up yet
Hop in! Do you think I might?
I thought I saw a pterosaur
A-flapping up to me Tune: Diadem
But it's just a seagull
As you can plainly see. oblig.
I've spotted spots before my eyes
Like aerated turds they're floaters
Am I looking at a leopard?
Or a group of stoner voters?
I wish I were a meteor
A-streaking down from space
I'd spread fire over all the Earth
And wipe t'smile off your face.
I wish a were a fountan pen
My nickname being "Her Nibs"
I'd leave blobs of ink o'er the place
To show that I'd first dibs.
I wish I were a fountain, pen
Spraying like a dirty tom
I'd dirty all your clothing, then
Put my cap back on
I'm glad I'm not a rabbit
'Cos I'd hate my floppy ears
To dangle in the gravy
and be brown for years
My soup has got a hare in
Call the waiter, please!
It squawks like Orla Guerin
And has a bunch of fleas!
I wish I were a gremlin
Just like Maxwell's Demon
I'd lurk within the Kremlin
And party with lost seamen.
I wish I were a demon
At Dominoes or Bridge
Then I'd have a reason
To expect privilege
If all my dreams and wishes
Were to come true on this day
I think I'd wish for something
That would make me feel gay.
Oh, to be in England
Where the sun shines on the Thames
The pedalos go stately by I was by the Thames yesterday, with a good friend. It was a perfect afternoon. And you can now hire pedalos in Kingston.
While thunderstorms portend English summer - two hot days ....
If I were a poltergeist
I'd hang around the stairs
Manipulating all the paintings
To take you unawares.
If you should meet a banshee
Upon a misty night
You are prob'ly Irish
And very likely tight
The Pouring of the Liquids
On this Momentous Day I have NO idea what this is about.
Unites the whole of Dollis Hill
On this Momentous Day Not sure if this is finished yet.
CdM - On this Momentous Day Not sure if this is finished yet.

On the first railway.
O'er the silvery Tay. More McGonagall than limerick, I think.
I ply in my old dingy
Bit of a cock-up there:

try again:

Software - I wish I could sail my dingy
Old schooner better than now;
My rigging looks like knitting [Softers - did you mean dinghy? We're running with 'dingy' now anyway!]
A dustbin makes up the prow Going with the flow
I wish I could see unicorns
Then Brexit may be real
My bum would not look big in this
It is though - just feel. Sorry, pen
When planning expeditions *sigh* Not much of that going on right now
There's nothing left to chance
My pack includes the kitchen sink
To wash my hands in France
I am the Surrey puma
A folklore cat or fable [p, R, S, n - handwashing one is very pleasing]
I roam the streets of Londontown
And prey as I am able.
I never was a boy scout
The practice makes me boggle
I never learned to tie a knot
Or how to fix my woggle oblig.
I was a useless Brownie
For each badge I failed
Not one was sewn upon my sash
Instead, they all were nailed.
please hospital no more Jevity!}
[hi Giertrud - good to see you & assuming you're startig a lim here...(and googling 'jevity')]
I'm failing to eat it with levity!
oh poop. I made a line for a lim and it should have been a Glow. Maybe someone has the skillz to rescue it.
Some Bailey's instead (Nah, it shows promise; let's stick with it)
[Giertrud] we've been thinking of you]
And I'm out if this bed If, in any way, the people who branded Jevity were thinking of "long" Jevity, then they need to be duffed up in the corner there
And ending my stay with brevity
OK, after that sonsensual and experiential digression into limerickhood, now back to glow-worms
When boredom comes a-calling
I beat it from my door
Just by going down the pub
And drinking pints and more
I wish I were a monstrous weed shaddap at the back.
That constantly was spreading
Through broadcast of its monstrous seed
And foliage a-shedding
I want to go to Londontown
And wear my Londonshoes
I'd saunter round the Londonstreets
And read the Londonnews.
And then I'd sing the Londonblues
Hidden textI like that last one enough to try another verse. Which will probably end up ruining it, of course.
Of life in Londontown
The streets, the sights, the Londonlights
Which are the Londoncrown.
But I'm stuck here in Merseyside
(Lord have mercy on my soul)
I'm grooving at the Cavern Club
Before I get my dole
CdM I'd say the second glowworm worked, too.
I think I'll go to Anfield
Should be nice and quiet
I'll either hand out toffees
Hidden texttop of the league...
But that's Everton, don't try it!
My mind has gone to mushy bits
(Potatoes but not peas) Now I'm getting hungry too
To find a rhyme for 'mushy' it's
Difficult to please
When I am straddle-ing the fence
The barbed wire can be painful
And, what's more, there's no defence
This stance is never gainful.
What will be of Halloween?
In 2021?
Will we be extinct by then?
Or have lots of fun?
I have a brand-new T-shirt
With holes slashed here and there
It's the brand new style
And they call it "evening wear".
Whilst visiting old stamping grounds
They all said "Who is this?"
"He's never paid for any rounds"
"He always takes the piss"
What I want for Christmas
Cannot be bought online
The cost of postage on its own
My PayPal would decline
The reindeer is a puzzling beast
With such a red, red, nose
And its nocturnal flights may be
With Santa, I suppose
A monkey with a blue, blue arse
Has one thing on its mind
Lifting lions to the sky
Is not it, you will find
I think this form may have potential.

A tapir with a long, long nose

Sniffs the mountain air
While Delphic oracles propose
He smells a grizzly bear.
The narwhal with its long long tooth
Does the dentist fear
For if it should be taken out
Its narwhal friends may jeer not great, but play seemed to have stalled
The rhino with its mighty horn Shuddup at the back
Stands out among the crowd
And those that would the rhino scorn
– Viagra does them proud
We haven't seen a bird all year
Nor wildcat, pig or mole
The ’pocalypse is surely here
Each horseman played his role
I'm glad I'm not a binbag (Chalky) V good - bit of class.
Stuffed in a smelly bin
I'd rather be a pin tag (Rosie) thank you!
Despite the state I'm in.
I wish I were in Georgia
It's always on my mind
Buddy, can you find a vote?
I'll pay you back in kind.
My people do not like me
My servants even less
My family have disowned me
Hi, I'm Andrew. Did you guess?
I've only thirteen minifridges
To keep my lipstick in True, apparently
And as for cold cream just don't ask
Just warn your next-of-kin
The shortage of new jamjars
Stops me from making jam
And that is not the only thing
I do as little as I can
My colleagues do not like me An intermittent theme, although fictitious
I wonder why that is?
Maybe they are envious
That what is mine is his
My colleagues all adore me! I'm sure this must be true
I'm the apple of their eye
But when I go bananas
I know that it's a lie
My teachers say I'm awesome
But little do they know
I’m really just as boresome
As Barry Manilow
They said her name was Lola Going darn the Copa Cobana innit
The hottest in Havana
Wears corsets and a bowler
In a scintillating manner
My Quiz Group do not like me
I am the Question Master
My questions are impossible
Why don't they give up faster?
I know all the answers
The Examiner, that's me
With every paper I find fault
Which indeed fills me with glee
I wish I was a robot
Made of brass and cogs and wheels
You're made of atoms I could use
Depending how I feels
I roll across the battlefield
For I am a big cheese
The bruised and bloodied cattle yield
As I go where I please.
Hidden textNot sure if there was a subtle reference in your line, Chalky, but it was excellent.
I wish I were a Roquefort
That stank of foul corruption
I'd spread my self upon your bread
And cause gaseous eruption.
If all the world was brave and new
And you were by my side
I think I'd might run away
Or think of suicide Invoking dark mode
Why shouldn't we reincarnate?
Recycling's all the rage!
But do not re-invent the wheel
We're not on the same page
I wish I was a satellite
And round the world I'd go
I might be known to go astray
Isaac Newton'd know.
Just one banana toastie
Then I'll have my lunch
A sausage with a roastie
Deep fried to make it crunch.
I should have done some gardening
My roses are all brown
My runner beans are hardening
And the weevils are in town
For just a million dollars
My car is up for sale
It wears a clerical collar
And runs on home-brewed ale
I closed my eyes and saw the light
And knew that death was near
He carried thirty-seven scythes
But I'm old, and have no fear.
I've eaten chicken nuggets
Hidden textThat car sounds fun, but would home brewed ale be cheaper than gasoline . . er petrol . . .
I hope they don't react
But I'll just take some precautions
I'll purge after the fact. euuuwww. Sorry.
I sing a song of sixpence
I don't have much to spend
But my birdie pie's a whopper
Some money, could you lend?
Simple Simon met a pie man Continuing the theme
Coming through the rye
Simon said "Give me your pies now"
And all he said was "Why?"
If I were Jack and you were Jill
And we were all alone
We'd not waste time with hills and pails
We'd be each on our smartphone .
A tuffet-seated missy
Was tickled by a spider
She pilled her why upon the ground
But it should have gone inside her.
Hidden text(KS) Did you mean whey?
A little laddie dressed in blue
Slept under a pile of hay
Hidden text[Rosie] Yes, whey and also spilled. My laptop likes to make my cursor jump all over - can hardly wait to get my new one.
While livestock ran alas amok
That night 'twas hell to pay.
The Duke of York was very grand
Ten grand in his charge
He marched them to the summit, and
Down then, by and large
A dragon went into his cave
To lay on piles of gold
All that glister, what a rave (Softers) Brilliantly prosaic
But soon its bum turned cold
An egg is such a curious thing
Bash it and it cracks
But keep it warm for many days
And you might see it hatch.
The owl said to the pussy cat
Why is your tail so long?
This pick-up line was met with a
Sling your hook - begone!
A man who came from Timbuktu
Arrived in Samarkand
And asked to use the nearest loo
When things got out of hand
I wish I were a painter (Chalky) Disgraceful
Then your house I'd decorate
I'd paint it all in tangerine
And display it at the Tate.
I've got a huge desire
For a gender change
In order to inspire
A greater thespian range.
Now look what you've done Last one v good esp pen. Ardderchog. Pum seren etc etc
There's no jelly in the jar
You've eaten all my homemade jam
And left the fridge ajar.
You ate the peanut butter
With sardines spread on toast
You're just a greedy nutter
And you've failed as a host.
It's June, and light abounds Sorry, Dujon
Tbe fireflies have come.
Hark! What are those sounds!
The firefly's burning bum
The sedge has withered from the lake
And no bird comes to make his song
And no bird comes to sing
Hidden textbetter fits the glow-worm metre
That beauteous woman was a fake!
(Knight's daze is misleading.)
With bluer skies and lengthening days
It's time to set the heath ablaze
A roaring fire is just the thing
To make the roasting pigeons sing - AABB silliness
I long to be a glow worm
A glow worm's never bored
A butt that shines is all they need
To get themselves adored.
I yearn to be a clerihew
But cannot break the mould
Boris Johnson is my name.
Same old, same old, same old.
Soon it'll be midsummer
The pollen count sky-high
'Cos allergy's a bummer (KagS) So it's you, is it
I often question why
I wish I were an epic
But I never learned to ep
So I'll stay among the shadows
And do so step-by-step
I wish I had a genie
In a lamp of molten brass
With a gently glowing yellow light pls pls pls...
That shines out of his arse. What you had in mind, pen?
[Raak] Yes, and thank you - but it wasn't just me. You could see the other contributors were all building up to it...
I wish that it were pay day It is actually, but that just means I can afford the poetic license to imagine that it's not
Then for a while I will feel flush
I'll have a splendid gay day
And top up my fund labelled "slush".
The ration is one verse per week
Or that's what it would seem
Such stinginess deserves a tweak
If we aspire to meme
Rationing poems ought to be a crime
As woeful scansion is
Equally, a clunky rhyme
Isn't quite the biz
Such clunkiness in public prose
Is common as a loaf of bread
So let us roundly condemn those
Whose rhymes have no street cred
Dogs are funny creatures
Although they're none too bright
Their sweet appealing features
Yes, but they smell and bark all night
I hope to take a holiday
In far-off Timbuktoo
I hope they've got an airport
And a ladies' loo
I've booked a short vacation
To somewhere where it's dry
Because my medication
Tends to make me high
Obligatory rhyming
Is really not so hard
But sometimes it just takes a lot
... All right, Software—you're barred!
Hidden textNot really. :)
I try to make it simple easy
'Cos we're all pretty dim
Our IQ rating is the pits
At least it's more than HIM.
I wish I were a laser beam
At least I'd have some focus
My photons in a single team
Marking out my locus.
Hidden text And don’t complain about the pronunciation.
I'm glad I'm not anonymous
For then no one would know
That no one really knows me
So won't mourn me when I go
Now I'm really famous
My TikTok's taken off
I'm known worldwide as Seamus
The new Rachmaninoff
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