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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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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
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