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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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But the genie says I must
And do it with precision.
I taught I taw a puddy tat
A tweeping up on me This can be sung to the hymn-tune Diadem.
I looked again and taw it was
A puddy tat indee...
My cat is called Sylvester
My dog is dubbed Stallone
My hamster is named Rocky
Now please leave me alone
Beware of men with pitchforks
Who stalk princes with big ears
In Gloucestershire they breed them
Quite thick, or so one hears
I wish I were a metaphor
Not just a simile
I'd be on ev'rybody's lips
Somewhat like Jade Goody
I wish I were a fixer
Always in demand
I'd never charge high prices
< cockney>"To you, darlin, a pahnd" </ cockney>
I wish I were a Geordie (Irg) Not a Lonodoner, then?
Then I'd say "Whey aye, man"
I've no idea what it means
But at least I've made it scan!
I wish I were a Brummie
Lugubrious but shrewd
Up here I'm in my oil tot
Because I'm in the nude
(yes, that was a non sequitur, but still...)
I wish I were a Scouser
Resenting my victim status - © B. Johnson 2004
I'd pick a lot of fights
With 'em Mancunians that hate us.
I wish I had two pennies
For to rub together
I'd spend them both on bennies
And disregard the weather
I wish (to be quite honest)
That you would go away
My patience, it is limited
My nerves do tend to fray
I wish I were poetic, like
But my speech is yoofy
I guess I'll stick wiv street talk
So as to sound less goofy
I wish I were a student
I'd sleep the whole day long
It helps me to be prudent
And grow up big and strong. There's sensible, isn't it?
I'm glad I'm not a mothball
That fumigates poor bugs
I'd whiff a bit, of naphthalene
And mask the smell of drugs ...speaking of students
I wish I had sagacity (pen) Could be worse. :-)
Then Jade Goody I would choose
I may not be as fat as she
But I could wear her shoes
I think I'll bog off early
I must avoid the rush lovely student stereotyping guys
Be home in time for Neighbours
Viewed with reverent hush.
Today I'll have a lie-in Tuj] We're just jealous...
A lovely duvet day
I'll get up when I want to
Meanwhile I'll hit the hay
I once saw a spoof e-mail from "Management" that included the following: "Every employee shall be entitled to 104 Duvet Days every year. 52 are called 'Saturday' and the other 52 are called 'Sunday'." Well, it amused me.
I wish I had some old rope
Attached to some foul-smelling soap
Just rotting in my shower
The stench doth overpower. This is not meant to be limerick, boys and girls.
I wish I knew my rhyme schemes [Irouléguy] Real life is much the different
My metres and my feet
My triolets and sonnets
That'll keep my scansion neat
Arse! I suck at this, sorry guys and gals.
It's fine - just needs a line break

I Say, Porter! - Arse! I suck at this
sorry guys and gals
Irouléguy - I need a little practice Tuj] As it was in my day ;)
And help from all my pals
I wish I were a hailstone (ISP) Noble contrition, finely expressed. :-)
A-falling from the sky will this do?
I'd try to land on some poor sod
And catch 'em in the eye
I'll no more go a-rovin'
'Cept for my rovin' eye
Just mentally undressing
Those on whom I spy. (ISP) Faultless :-)
Though technically faultless
There's moral issues to pursue deep and meaningful, this
It has to have the spirit
And needs a dab of glue
This Lenten entertainment
Which I will not give up
Involves champagne and a juicy steak
And lots of beer to sup
I wish that it was Easter
With chocolate eggs all round
(Ellipsoidal, actually)
Let pedantry abound
I wish I were a teledu
Making nasty smells
I'd enter small closed spaces
And stink out Tunbridge Wells.
I wish that I could teleport
Like the people on Star Trek
I'd port to Angelina Jolie's bed
And shout out 'Flippin' Eck!' Bad line, Softers. What's that fat-lipped looney got to do with anything on here? Maybe she's one of your fantasies, but she isn't mine!
I wish that Angie's luscious lips
Were planted on my cheek
Or perhaps in other places
That make my legs go weak.
I wish I'd eaten rather less
Of Auntie's rhubarb crumble
It sits inside me like a stone
I can hear my innards rumble
Would you book me an interview?
My current job is boring
I sit among the grey-faced throng
But long to break my mooring.
[R,T,R] Oooh... touching. I actually *do* have an interview on Friday...
I wish that I had chicken soup
Instead of orange squash
But then this straw would be no good (pen) Go for it.
Unless it's cold chicken Borscht
We hope you pass the interview
And make a great impression
You should avoid your Clement Freud
It gives us all depression
If I had 14 fingers
(More than I really need)
I'd be a great guitarist
A dexterous one indeed
If I were in the cabinet
Blair's, or a wardrobe too
I'd surely be kept in the dark
And like mushrooms, fed on poo [irach] a bit of shoehorn required to make that line fit and make sense there, donchoo think? Otherwise, onwards and upwards chaps. Keep together. A-one, A-two, A-one-two-three-four
I wish I was a petrol gauge
That told misleading tales
Like five instead of fifteen quid
A way of boosting sales. By volume, anyway. Two sorts of petrol gauge here.
I wish that pen will tell us
A story that is true
That's nothing like her normal brand
I'd duck if I were you.
I laughed...
I wish I was a Liar
And my nose was five yards long
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