mc5 - Pea and Honey Recipes

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

Uncle Korky

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 :-)

Allow me

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

Juxtapose

I wish that it was Easter

Phil

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

Graham III

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

nights

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

I'd poke it up Lord Archer's bum

'Cos he says it doesn't pong But we all know about him, don't we boys and girls?

I wish I had a wishing well

I'd drop coins in it an hope

Hrmph!
Tuj - I wish I had a wishing well
Software - I'd drop coins in it and hope

And if my wish did not come true

I'd throw tantrums and mope

I wish I wasn't here right now

I'd rather be in Derry

Irach

And I wish I wasn't Tom the cat

'Cos he's from County Kerry

I wish I was a barnacle

Adhering to the bottom

And when they came to scrape me off

I'd shout and scream, God rot 'em.

I wish I were an ocelot

I'd slink around my prey - [Am loving the last two - kudos all round]

I'd sleep in trees - I'd doss a lot Wossa kudo? Is it like a podume?

That's how I'd pass my day

I wish I were a kinkajou

Dweeling in the trees [Rosie] Japanese ideal based on the inherent idea of podumes without the physical objects themselves

My dweel would scatter down to earth

And make capybaras sneeze

Oh, dweel

While dweeling round the whipple tree

Parailing all I'd wotten (Tuj) Ah!

I groiled a nupthuck's pack o' three

Which craulked me something rotten :-(

[R, R, K, C] I'm reminded of Kandra Woods, a game of Jabberwockian verse I've only encountered as part of the currently dormant* Furcation Game but a full version of which took place at MCiOS (also currently dormant**). Doesn't meant I shouldn't have checked my spelling though :P

* a bit hopeful: approaching 1000 days since the last move!
** hopefully dormant on a far, far lesser magnitude

Shall we continue in the same vein for a while?

I wish I were an actroblub

Or knew just what one was

[IS,P] Hmmph .. don't wanna play, eh? NOW what do I do? Carry on regardless Jabber-stylee [as Kim suggested] or attempt to follow your lead? Friday mornings are simply not designed for such decisions :-)

[Chalks] I'd argue that this one could be continued with an attempt to define an actroblub in the Jabba style.

Chalkers

[Ispers] Good argument :-)
I wish I were an actroblub
Or knew just what one was
My quoil stope seems to fit the bill

I'm absolutely pos.

The quirly bims of Ishtaru

Upon the city wall

Their ush-hahas all vixy blue (ISP) There y' are - it's a quoil stope. Say no more. But for the "t" it could be the kids next door - Extreme Crying.

I'd love to paint them all [Chalks] Ispers? Lovely!

Of all the strogs in London

And Witney Scrotum too © Peter Tinniswood, I have to admit.

The Glob, of Hurley Pustulae

looks most of all like you.

The plimp-kneed zilk of Trescoreen

Whom some may july april

Will never gretch the flommits of

Gremlits naar the burbling rill

'Tis time, methinks, to discourse

'pon brassicas and Georges

Legumes and tubers

Pah! wrong scan

Kim - 'Tis time, methinks, to discourse
Irouléguy - 'pon brassicas and Georges
Software - Let's consider legumes too

Graham III

and sounds of Victor Borge's
*sssssssswish pop*

I like the old tradition

Of rhyme that scans with sense

nights

As for all this modern stuff,

'Twill be banished hence.

I wish I were clairvoyant

For I'd like to foresee

Which witches might be buoyant

And which we'd drown with glee.

I wish I were a hampster

Or a furry hamster too

Or a furry, furry hamster

And hampster coloured too

I wish I wore a witch's watch

Upon my gnarlèd wrist

My timings I would never botch

Appointments never missed

I wish I had a second head

So no need of forked tongue

Juxtapose

As such, I've just a second hand

And also a third lung

I wish I were a sewer pipe

A-shifting Mersey trout

My belches, feculently ripe,

Would noxious vapours spout

I wish I were a music box [R,S,R,i] Bizarrely delightful!

So easy to wind up

Thus people would oft take me

For a playful singing pup. - sorry - I posted just to get rid of the darn thing. Not the easiest line to follow, Monsieur Softers, am wondering if you had a final line in mind when you posted?

I Say, Ruler!

I wish I weren't an England fan

It's getting somewhat bland

Whether soccer, cricket, rugby

So best stick head in sand.

I wish I were an Irish man