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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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If you get poor reception
Try stroking your aerial
It will certainly mess up the scan
And if combined with poor insulation could lead to your premature burial.
I wish I were a bar of soap
Almost a glowing clerihew, that last one. Or perhaps a cleriworm
Fragrant Camay, Pears, or Fairy
My bubbles would caress your skin
And scents send your head airy.
I'm in an awful lather here
I just can't choose between
The liquid or the solid soap
Which will best keep me clean?
I've heard the tales of cooking woes
I've empathised and wept
For oysters, like famed Carpenter
In month's not 'r' except
I'm going to the corner shop
I may be quite a while
The lady at the counter's cute
I'll try my rakish smile
I wish I were an oyster
An aphro-dis-i-ac
I'd make folks feel quite fruity
So they'd end up in the sack
My college class has started
And I am running late
I have no time to eat my lunch
And no time to masturbate coat!
I wish I were an actor (Softers) 15-yr-olds do it in class (so I'm told)
I'd strut upon the stage
There'd be no dry eye in the house
My "Macbeth" would be the rage
I wish I were a guru
My every word you'd heed
I'd tell you to strip naked
To do a Kama Sutra deed
To partake of my wisdom
You must wear this party hat
Your brain will function better
Although you'll look a prat oblig, probably
I am a perfect Bayesian
I am coordinated
And all those silly Frequentists
Can say what they like
When Ike and Tina Turner
River deep-ed and mountain high-ed
They left a good job in the city
But then ol' Ikey died
I'd climb the highest mountain
And forge the wettest stream
Just to get away from you (SM) Did you mean ford?
You're a nightmare not a dream
O poets red in tooth and claw [Rosie] Yes, I was thinking of 'Climb Every Rainbow'
Have no truck with sonnets (SM) Ah! The steep bit near the ground is the worst, always.
It's best to use a car instead
And etch your verse on bonnets [Software] "Can say what they like"? (three poems ago) Am I missing something subtle?
I wish I were a jam jar
Packed with jellied berry filling
Then I'd feel the rock star
Who liked young girls quite willing [Phil] yes
I wish that I were clever
And won a Nobel prize
I'd then become quite famous
And get away with lies. . . . cynical old bugger . . .
I wish I were a liar
Alas, though, I lack guile
But what I miss in cunning
I make up for with pure style
I've only ever once been caught
With my trousers down - J,R,E,C - nice :o)
The trial was held at County Court
With my boxer shorts stained brown
I wish I were a magistrate
A-sending folks to hang
I'd be acting ultra vires
But I just don't give a dang (y'all)
I wish I were immortal [Phil] I'm as confused as you are, btw.
And immoral would help too
I'd sin for all eternity [CdM] Thank god, it's not just me :-)
The bill would ne'er come due.
I wish I was a shuttlecock
Winging back and forth
My feathers start off perky
Then end up pointing north [CdM, Phil] It's me as well :-)
I wish such obfuscation - I've been waiting for ages to post that word
Would be more oft eschewed
For spurious complication
Is moral turpitude. We are the New Puritans. Aaaaaghh!
[C,R,p,R] Excellent. I've said more than once that to be a good citizen in the morniverse, particularly in poetry games, you need to know when not to post. This morning I wrote the line "Well -- I just think it's rude" to finish that last glowworm, but upon previewing I thought, 'well, that's ok, but I bet someone else can do better'. So I deleted my line, and -- sure enough -- Rosie came along with one that was ten times better. Oh, and while I am it, applause also to S,P,R for the immor(t)al one.
(CdM) Thanks for the compliment. Your point is very pertinent. If I can't think of a good one I try not to put anything up. Part of the reason, I have to admit, is that I don't want to put my name to some banality. People will think I'm going soft or have lost it. But really one has to ask oneself "Is this worthy of the Morniverse?" If not, say nowt. Your inspiration will return. This condition can be relaxed to end a poor one has been hanging about for a while.
I wish my knarfled sprugget-flink Yes, but you should have seen the lines I rejected.
Was cruft with sparkly prill
With splinky dik-daks all around
Upon my window sill.
I wish a were a geyser now, now . . .
And not a girly fountain
I'd live in lovely Yellowstone
And squirt at Saddle Mountain
When continents are drifting
Pangaea's split apart
Gondwanaland's a-forming
And India gets its start
I wish I knew the answer
I haven't got a clue
Don't understand the question
Besides, I'm pissed. What's new?
I've changed my online atavar
The new one's so much cuter [ITYM "avatar" ;-)]
I like to watch her in the nude
By hacking her computer
I wish I was a chocolate bar
Instead I'm just a flake
But just like British chocolate I have an ending in mind, I wonder if others do?
I leave Hershey's in my wake [Soft] was that it?
I wish I were an ombudsman
I would investigate
Nefariousness in all its forms
The piss I would not take [Phil] Not quite - "I'm just a bloody fake" was my idea.
i wish my work was finished
And I could go straight home
But maybe I'd swing by the pub
"I can't resist." (Georg Ohm)
Banality in all its forms
Is found on MC here
In fact it is one of our norms
No deep thoughts shall appear.
(A hymn to be sung to the tune of "All Things Bright and Beautiful".)
If any intellectual
Attempts to prove us wrong
She or he'll be pilloried
In poetry and song. Fat chance
A cross-eyed bear called Gladley
Met a cock-eyed bear called Bill
The pair devoured a wall-eyed pike
Strabismus wins two-nil.
I wish I were a dashing spy
Dashing from Prague to Rome
With pistol, gloves and killer shades
And camera in my comb

Perhaps this deserves several verses ..

I'd have no need for mundane things
I'd love my Austin Martin
Its blazing guns would clear the road
And leave the baddies smartin'


My basic needs would be supplied - usa
(Women, wine, and poker chips)
My cool, suave charm would be applied
To Octopussy's swaying hips.
Nasty villains I'd track down
Mmmmm - try that with more space

Software - Nasty villains I'd track down

Blow up their secret hideaways
they'd stroke their cats to no avail
Their henchmen turned to runaways. oish

On service to Her Majesty

My license is to kill
With ricin or with bullets' aim
Either way it's brill.

I'm on the SMERSH most-wanted list
But do not care a jot
I'm women-and-martini-pissed
My suave is all to pot


Most of all, I'm just so cool
My machismo knows no bounds
But that's my dream. In real life
I'm a milkman on my rounds Well, that was fun while it lasted :o)
I wish I were a painter
My house I'd decorate
I'd paint it in pink candystripes
and sell it to the Tate
I wish I were decisive. That spy series wasn't bad at all. A bit of polishing and it would be reminiscent of Milligan.
Or do I? I'm not sure
But then, on the other hand
I like to dither more
I wish I could remember
Whatever I forgot
But did I forget anything?
My memory says not
I wish I could stop dreaming
and rouse myself from sleep
But the arms of Morpheus
Are lovely, long and deep
Oi! You nicked my bicycle!
How can I get home?
The bus is gone I've got no dosh
So Oi'll polish off me pome
I wish I were a test pilot
In stratospheric realms
Mach IV would seem slow to me
Until I hit those elms.
I wish my sinuses would drain [Rosie] marvellous finish!
Then I could hum fine tunes
But sadly I just suffer Which I do, actually :o(
Most Aprils, Mays and Junes. (blamelewis) Cheers. I was inspired by the thought of a mate who flies a Tiger Moth. Top speed 80 mph and it can just about clear the trees.
I wish I was a tiger moth
I'd aim to clear the trees
With wooden prop and wings of cloth
Being careful not to sneeze.
I wish I was a cauliflower
With fractal-like florets
But please don't overcook me (Raak) Yeah, all right, :-)
Else I'll get the sweats
I swoop above the cabbage fields
To look for Peter Rabbit
Airborne death falls from the sky
The vultures dive and grab it.
I wish I was a Brussels sprout veg cascade!
Fresh-steamed and dipped in butter
Best Brassica that ever was
"I hate you!" children mutter
I wish I were a curtain (Softers) About right. :-)
Upon a Broadway stage
I'd be raised revealing stars
From Vaudeville's golden age
A second use for cabbages
Which very few folks know
Is in machines of Babbage's
To smooth the data-flow.
Excellent stuff. Bravo those people
I wish I were a Pearly King Here Here!
A cockney through-and-through
Robed in gaudy sequinned bling
And act 'oity-toity too
I wish I were a Weetabix
Or two - they're best in pairs
But quick, I go all soggy
If with liquid one prepares
I wish I was a Metro train
My headlights incandescent
'Neath the streets I would wind
In ecstasy transcendent.
A duck is sleeping on the tracks
Its head beneath its wing
It doesn't hear the closing train
Now it's dead, poor thing re last one: I would have thought someone would have spotted something like - "N'ere stopping at the 'Crescent" but there you go.
We're stopping at the "Crescent"
Let's all get out and look
This station looks quite pleasant
Aye, fancy, in't it, chuck?
A smart and well-kept station
Is wond'rous to behold
It fills me with elation
And makes me brave and bold.
I wish I worked for TfL
They're full of japes and stunts
When storms blow leaves across the lines
I think "Those useless people."
I wish I didn't have thith lithp
'Cos really I'm dead hard
I'll thmack the thod what takth the pith
Or callth me a wetard ...and fair enough...
I'd like to spend my life at sea
A-seeking grog and plunder
And have a girl in every port
Who's willing to go under Yeah, mine's hanging in the hall, thanks.
I wish I'd been a Chippendale
In lycra posing thong
However, I am but a weed
And won't reveal my dong
I wish I were a checkout clerk
With barcode-reader thing
I'd wear my name-badge upside-down [Soft/Raak/Rosie/blame] Genuinely laughed out loud.
Of Tesco I am King.
Outside the supermarket
Beside the bottle bank
I'll take myself in hand right now
There's only me to thank aha!
It doesn't take a lot to find - [pen] tee hee
You've nothing in your purse [pen] :0)
So stick it on the credit card [pen] thank you
And let the debt get worse aka Patience Strong.. Would someone give me a break from moralising last lines please?!
I count my money every day
It takes me all the morning
Whoever said that crime don't pay?
They've not read the safety warning to put this one to bed
I like to dress in orange garb
and paint my buttocks blue
Then storm the pitch at Boundary Park
And entertain the few.
I smeared my shins with marmalade
Said Paddington one day.
Mr Gruber frowned and shook his head
"Sticky little bears can't play." ...there.
I wish I could be somewhere else
And even then, not there
Where'er it is I seem to go
I'd rather be elsewhere.
I've just come back from nowhere
Or Redditch, as it's called
Up there they talk quite funny
As they think "called" rhymes with "carpet". Eh?
I wish I had a time machine
Like that I once had soon
This time I'll read the user guide
No matter how jejune
I wish I were a molecule (Phil) V good!
Of purest anthracite [Rosie] I used to have a chemistry teacher who pronounced it "mow-lay-queue-all",
I'd rule a landscape miniscule
With my atoms all packed tight
If I had much more money
I'd buy myself some friends
I'd bask in sycophantic praise
In my Mercedes-Benz
April makes me happy
September makes me sad
April is quite crappy [Rosie] Ta! [Quendalon] Minuscule is the correct, if widely unknown, spelling
But September is rad! bipolar? [Phil] Even I've fallen for that one... classic Graeme Garden new definition for it though =)
I wish I was the Taj Mahal
All marble pure and white
Best Asian grub in Colliers Wood
It hits the spot just right [Phil] You are correct! I'm so embarrassed. I feel small -- nay, minuscule. :-)
I wish to find Nirvana
Or any sort of grunge
Maybe AC/DC
Or Napalm Black Death Gunge.
I'm off to visit Shangri-La
And learn the secret truth
Of jet lag, crap food, cancelled flights
LHR T5 forsooth!
I've been around the world again
But when I got back home
My bags were still in Cairo
My underwear in Rome
I'm glad I'm not a terminal
With baggage all astray
And I'm glad I'm not an airline
In terminal disarray
I wish I was a marmoset
In marmalade or jam
'Cos I am a real sweet tooth
Don't like green eggs and ham.
I wish I had some oobleck
To spread upon my toast
To eat with my Green Eggs and Ham
While I'm reading next door's post
I wish I manned a tower crane
Armed with a wrecking ball
I'd be every building's bane
In Telford, first of all. Pandering to popular taste, though Swindon, Basingstoke and Crawley would have done.
A nuclear bomb and Bracknell
Go like toast and jam
This should be known more widely (SM) I used to work there (Met Office) 1964-66. A soulless dump even then.
So I'll set up Auto Spam - which gets rid of that one - phew
I have a proposition
To end this sentence with
That's such a supposition
From mister Simons Mith Oblig.
I wish I were a lumberjack
Hanging round a bar
I'd wear long frilly dresses
Just like my dear mama - oblig.
A fact that few consider
Regarding soccer moms
Is that their little poppets
To matches carry bombs
Rule one is that Thou Shall Wear Socks
Rule two is to not catch the Pox
Ah, this is a limerick, yes?
I wish that I were hosiery
Wrapped 'round a woman's thighs
Instead (here's full disclosury)
I just dreams and sighs
I wish I were a proper noun
And not a proper twit
I wouldn't mislead my online friends
By pretending I'm a wit
I wish I were a raspberry [Softers] Precisely the line I nearly put in yesterday!
Blown in your direction
Then I would really signify
Contempt for your complexion
Spare the rod and spoil the child
So whack him with a kipper
The little sod has run quite wild
Who'd ever have a nipper?
I wish I were a bumblebee
I'd bumble hither-thither
Up to the point when you might say - go on - swear out loud. You know you want to.
Fuck it, then. Why dither? (Chalks) Oh, I do, but actual invitations are scarce.
I wish I was a potted plant
A fern or aspidistra
I'd live in conservatory
De-dum te-tum de-dah -life's too short to faff around with impossible rhymes and nonsensical third lines :-)
I wish I had more patience
With Software's last third line
I wish I'd thought before I wrote My fault - I must have had a brain fart
Contrition, thus, is mine. (pen) Which orifice is involved in these eruptions?
I wish I owned a parrot
I wish I owned a parrot [pen] confession is good for the soul ;o) + More brain farting!
Oh I wish I owned a parrot
But I don't.
I've thought a lot about this line
Perhaps I've over-thought
But when I think about my thoughts
I get really overwrought
I wish I were a beer mat
For real ale not for lager
Anything that I soaked up
Would serve to end this saga (mercy killing)
I wish I were a Riesling
Or maybe a Gewurz
Instead I'm just a pale Soave
Life's so unfair, it hurts
I wish I was a mezcal worm
Condensing boozy vapours
In stasis there I would remain
A source of mental capers
I would I were a pint of ale
As clear as amber dew
I'd sit upon my beermat
Anticipating you
As swift as Summer Lightning
Your cooking passed through me
The thunder rumbles on, though
As does the smell of brie
I wish I were an antelope
An ungulate or deer
I'd skip across the grassy plains Do I sound like a lumberjack? Hello, Darren. Where have you been, then?
And wonder why I'm here
I like to play upon my oud
Or my didgeridoo
But as for my soprano sax
it always leaves me blue
I wish I were a tangerine
I really don't know why
They say I'm prone to whimsy
My head floats in the sky
I wish I were a dicky-bird
A-sitting on the fence
I'd then uncover what occurred
If I were not so dense
To wait and watch and listen
While drinking whisky sours
Is, I think, a great fun way
To while away these hours
To fart and belch and chunder
Is what every Aussie loves
So is it any wonder
They don't quite sound like doves. v few rhymes
I wish I was the Ace of Spades
So black and curved, yet pointed
We aces all are renegades
When trumped we're disappointed.
I wish I were a saxophone
All levers, pads and keys
I'd be blown and fondled
Is no-one going to finish this bugger? It's not that difficult, surely, and it has stood here for 4 days.
Right between the knees
For hours I stood and waited
For any sign of you
I sighed and contemplated
Stalking someone new.
I wish I were a chainsaw (Quen) That's the 'cello, surely. :-)
I'd really get a buzz
From taking part in massacres
And perplexing Texas fuzz
I wish I were a plank of wood
With no termites around
By carpenters I would be nailed
By creosote be browned.
I booked a flight to Katmandu - Last three - neat :-)
It seemed a good idea
I then went on to Timbuktu
Tomorrow, Llwynypia. It rhymes, it scans. Look it up. Mwa-ha-ha-ha!
I traveled to the Isle of Man
(The third leg of my trip)
I spent three days in fun Milan
Some tw*t put me in knip - I dunno - I'd barely uttered the word scaloppini... and there he was, brandishing his Mario Batali Oil Drizzler ...
Begone, vile knippieri! (Phil) V good
You've blighted my whole game [irach] Very nice Texas line above, especially the internal "x" repeat
(My mother said: Be wary
If Maelberg's and Beck's are the same)
This isn't quite a poem
Although it rhymes and scans
The words just come a flowin'
And look best in Gill Sans.
I wish I were a sonnet
That perched upon a tree
But then would someone read me?
Yes, arborists certainly
O! if I were a petal
And you a honeybee
I'd love your sweet antenna tickle
As you crawl over me
All things that squirm and wriggle
Are a delight to me
Ooh, how I love those maggots
How they enhance a brie!
I wish I were a paper bag [Rosie] Deft!
For airsickness on a plane
I'd catch all those nasty bits
Your loss - recycling's gain. (Tuj) Cheers.
To loop the loop is my delight
All on a springtime morn - [Rosers] neat finishing on last two
When up is down and down is up
Invertedly airborne
It started in the treehouse
It continued in the shed
It traumatised my wee mouse
Which came into my bed.
I wish I were a critic
Of literary works
I just love lambasting authors
Solipsistic berks!
I swung my axe with gusto
I chopped something in half
I put the vid on YouTube
Please add an epitaph.
Three cheers for "last line" Rosie
He's really on a roll
No matter what our prose be,
With Rosie, it's not droll
I really am most flattered . . . no last line this time . . .
And so you should be, chum!
Because you have a way with words
Stand up to roll of drum!
In spite of all the plaudits
Pride's a Deadly Sin
Some rank it first of seven
But I think Sloth should win
[Simons] I was going to post that line. But then I couldn't be bothered.
I wish I were a sinner
Evil of intent
I'd take my cues from Lucifer
On chaos I'm hell-bent!
A-sitting cross-legged on a cloud
Reciting a Lim'rick out loud [SM] Are you in the right room?
With my head lowly bowed go with the flow
(I've no right to be proud)
I wonder if this is allowed
I'm glad I'm back to normal
Whatever 'normal' is
It's less than semi-formal
Just not quite the biz
I'm glad I've regained consciousness
I thought I'd be dead forever
But how shall I escape this box?
That's my next endeavour.
I'm taking half of your estate
I think it's rightly mine
Since I am your conjoined twin
Sign on the dotted line
As I awoke this morning
My little dream was scotched
I knew I'd made a boo-boo
'Cause my tartan sheets were blotched - I'll get my jacket then ..
I wish I were a referee
'Cause I look good in black
And what's more I'm a bastard
And common sense I lack
[Rosie] I remember once seeing some "humorous" foreign language translations in preparation for a big football tournament - Italia 90 World Cup maybe. The one I always recall is "Bastardo" = Referee. Still makes me chuckle.
I wish i was caddis fly
Skimming o'er the water (Bigsmith) The thing is "Bastardo" is actually an Italian town and surname.
I'd keep and eye out for the trout
And the salmon's hungry daughter
I wish I were a paperclip
I'd straddle many pages
And though I am dispensable
I pay my maker's wages
I wish I was a stocking top I have a precise idea where this one might go, but I wonder if anyone else gets it?
Encircling a fine leg [pen] This may be off your female beam, given my gender
Mmm, cricketers in lingerie
In mid-slip, for which I beg
It really wasn't cricket
But more like table tennis
My stocking tops went off the boil
as Nancy said to Svennis It's the tatty denim jacket...
A Viking who ate much salt cod
[irach] is your mind really on this?
let's try a revamp:

I wish I'd been a Viking

Intent on rape and pliiage
Because I have a liking (Assuming it's 'pillage' not 'pliiage') please, go ahead...
To escape this tiny village.
I'd love to be a warrior
I'd warry and I'd warry
But dressed in all this armour
I'd not get quizzed by MORI. Non sequiturs - c'est moi.
"Morituri te salutant"
Was once to Caesar said
So then he went and conquered
Who said that Latin's dead?
Sorry if you all know this one, but, back in the mid-seventies two years' study of Latin was still compulsory at my school. Handwritten in the front of my (very old and much used) textbook was this wonderful little ditty: "Latin is a language, As dead as dead can be, First it killed the Romans, And now it's killing me...."
I wish I'd been a Roman Last one v good
And lived the Roman ways
I'd doff my toga in the baths
With all the other straight people moving right along...
Latin is a language
With endings and declensions
It's quite the grammar sandwich
With classical pretensions
How fond I am of Kipling
Of Kim and Gunga Din
Of verandah-settled tippling
Small tonic, lots of gin.
I wish I'd lived in days of Raj
With my hookah and my bhisti
A most impressive entourage
Quite unlike E L Wisty.
I want to turn the decades back
And have my time again
Well, maybe not the early days
'cause teething was a pain
I wish I could remember
Why I came upstairs
But I'm sure that it will come to me
Perhaps I'm hiding from the Blairs?
a merciful end...
I wish I was a dentist's drill
A-grinding at your teeth
I'd snigger as I hit a nerve
And the touchy stuff beneath. (Softers) You BASTARD :-)
I wish I was an albatross
A soaring o'er the briny
I'd check out female Albatrii I know...
E'en though my willy's tiny. (Botherer) That's all right then. :-)
I wish I were an eagle
Perched on my cliffside aerie
Bunny rabbits, watch your back
I feel a little queerie
I would I were a hummingbird
Sipping nectar dawn to dusk
I'd beat my wings so very fast
I'd not have time to busk There, that's that then
I wish I were Geordie (Softers) Well done. I found that one impossible.
I'd call everybody man
I'd preface statements with "Why aye"
And shirtless try to tan (Rosie) busk and musk were the only words I could think of so was hinting at working up a sweat...
I'd love to sip some Earl Grey tea
With rusk and homemAde scones
I'd feel so very dignified
Talking in snobbish tones that's how I pronounces it
I wish I were a white van man
Foot hard on the floor
I'd rob the middle classes blind
And undercharge the poor Poetic licence invoked
I wish I was the Moomintroll
But why I just don't know
Perhaps it is the Snork Maiden
Her norks are rather droll
I paint my feet with mayonnaise
And stand on Regent Street
But only on those sunny days
When rats deserve a treat
In Noorvik lives a noble moose
The monarch of the tundra
He grazes lichen all the day
And fresh leaves by the hundre(d)
That's a point on your poetic license, Mr Raak. We'll be watching you.
The oboe is a woodwind
And has a double reed
The clarinet has only one
Which quite fulfils it's need
Oh, please, lend 'us a tenner
I'm short of a few bob [Kim] scan a bit sus, there, mate :o)
A fiver simply will not do
'Cos I'm a boozy slob.
[Softers] Oh, please, lend 'us a tenner - 's wrong wi' that?
[Kim] Sounds a bit limerickish to me.

Anyway:
I wish I were a bookie

I'd make more dough than bakers
So get my share of nooky
With the movers and the shakers
I have a niece called Sunny
By name and nature too
She wants to join the Moonies now
The silly little moo
Curses! Simulposted and with a very similar line.
I like my Brie all runny
Disgusting though it looks
As long as it's not furry
Then I'd throw it at the rooks
I wish I was a Bo Peep sheep
All lost and undiscovered
But my mistress for me would go seek
She really would be bovvered
I wish I were a conker
And be the conkering hero
But 'gainst the oven-hardened champ
My chances approach zero
I wish I were a-sunbathing
A-naked on my porch
Scandalising passers-by
Who giggle while I scorch
I wish I were the gas-man
I'd cut off your supply
And that would be a gas, man
Because I'd make you cry.
Step on the gas man!
I'm flying down to Rio
Sugarloaf Mountain beckons
My jouney is con brio
Or so the Missus reckons...
I wish I were a real cool cat
And stunningly good-looking
Dick Whittington would disown his
And I would get his booking
I wish I were a High Court judge
Doling justice from the bench
I wish they'd bring back hanging
That'd make the buggers blench!
I wish that Keira Knightley's toes
Were hairy, just like mine
Instead they're varnished in bright hues
But I only counted nine
I wish I were an athlete
With awesome washboard abs
Enhanced by ev'ry drug there is
Including androgenic mAbs (monoclonal antibodies, that is...)
I wish I was in Heckmondwyke
I tire of Cleckheaton
My head is all messed up and like
A carpet, beaten. In another life I used to deal with a computer company based in Heckmondwyke
I wish my elephant would tread
A little more discretely
But when I tell him, "Whoa, Fred!"
He loses it completely.
My love is like a red, red rose
That's been decapitated
By someone who sadly knows
Bugger, something fouled up - it should read:

How much its overrated

What the f...

I wish that I could turn back

And not screw up this time
Were there but a BUTTON I could press
I could go back and have a second attempt at making this line scan as well as rhyme
I wish I were a satnav
That told you where to go
Then I would tell you to sod off
Sounding like Seb Coe onwards...
I wish I was a dwarf star
In a fairground freaky show
I'd shave the bearded lady
Which part you'll never know.
I wish i was a Punk Rocker
With acne, grease and bile
My ears all full of safety pins,
My vocabulary vile
I wish I were an aerial
A Yagi not a dish
Grabbing waves ethereal Why has this sat here for a week? It's not difficult.
Is that too much to wish?
I'm glad I'm not a poofter
Or a drag queen with a pouf
And though I'm homophobic
I like a bit of rouf.
A ladder in my stockings
A stairway to your dreams?
Held up by suspenders
And other fiendish schemes.
I wish that colonoscopies
Were broadcast on the telly
Just the place for yet more crap
To turn our brains to jelly
[i,p,R,S] V. Good
I wish I'd done some thinking
Before I chose to speak
So now my foot is in my mouth
It's been there all the week.
I wish I was an alpaca
Instead of being a llama
But then again a camel
Is one to cause a drama
I wish I were a farmer
With fields all bare and ploughed
I'd grow my hops and barley
No trespassers allowed
Alas, the fields are flooded
So let us all grow rice
Now, now, please don't have a paddy
Paddy leeches aren't nice
I wish I were a boxer
Rather than a scotty
Or even a dalmatian in a desperate bid to get this moving again
Costing fifty zloty. Crap, but it'll do. (CdM) Well done. No-one's fault really.
[Rosie] I was expecting "dotty" :-)
I wish I had the foresight
To know what banks to short
Then I'd make a killing [Rosie] I thought that I'd primed it for the last line to be something like "Cos my nose is snotty" but there you go ...
If I'd sold what I bought sorry for the doublepost, but it just seemed right
I wish I was a chimpanzee
Tossing off with vigour
I'd stare at you from in my cage
(For chimps that's so de rigueur)
I do so wish I could speak French
The language of romance
Much better than the Double Dutch
"Take off der pants, der pants!"
O! Would I were a poet!
My verse, it would astound
And what it lacked in scan and rhyme
I'd make up with sheer sound.
I wish I were a sculptor
Wrestling with wet clay
Trying to create beauty
In a Venus de Milo way
I wish I was a frisbee
Spinning through the air
I'd land in someone's picnic
With buoyant savoir faire
I like my steak done meejum rare
Blood-stained, not dripping red
Served up with crispy onion rings
And crusty, warm French bread *rumbles*
I wish I were a salmon [Pen] Nicely topped and tailed
Swimming to my spawning ground
And though I'm going 'gainst the flow
My methodology is sound I wonder why some "stick"?
I wish I were a stick insect [Software] I think it has to do with the movement of the stick market
Just like Peter Crouch
I'd stick one in the Kazakh's goal
I really am no slouch
I wish I were a Two-toe'd Sloth
I just hate having five
I'd spend each day just hanging on
To prove that I'm alive.
When I switched on my telly
The news was far from good
I've lost a lot of money
So let's play Robin Hood.
When I switched on the wireless
To hear Evan Davis drawl
I sat and quietly panicked
It made my skin just crawl
I wish I were an ingot
Locked up in Fort Knox
Safely away from mayhem
In Uncle Sam's steel box
It's not the way I planned it
It's not like it should be
Alas, it's all gone pear-shaped
But it suits me to a tee
I wish I was a chimney sweep
Just like Dick Van Dyke
I'd stick my brush right up your flue
And shake it, if you like. My coat? How kind......
I wish I were Italian
Ruthlessness plus charm
I'd cruise Roma on Lambrettas
A compare on my arm Compare n. crony, close pal, buddy. Literally, "godfather" in Italian.
I wish I were a compère Compère n. master of ceremonies. From old French, meaning "godfather".
Oozing wit and charm
I'd denigrate the other acts
And call Queen Lizzie "Marm"
I wish I were a Comice Pear
A female shape for sure
Narrow here and wider there
Luscious, juicy, phwooar! Er, sorry. Saw a copy of The Sun in the Co-op.
I wish that baleen whales had teeth
(irach) Have you started a limerick?
(Rosie) No. It's exactly the same format as earlier one in syllables and scan...)
And roamed upon the land
But wouldn't want to stand beneath
As they walk down the Strand
[i,R,p,S] Lovely. Qualities of Lewis Carrol about it.
I wish I were a vendor
Of pies and potted meat
And with the cash you tender
My bookie I would meet
I wish I knew exactly
How I would react
But I am so uncertain
So that wish I'll retract
I wish I were a bishop
With mitre, cope, and crook
I'd stand out on a chessboard
From queen and knight and rook
I wish I were the President
I'd set the whole world right
From my perspective, obviously,
I'd be neck-deep in the shite
I wish I were a cheeseboard
That smelt like gorgonzola
An aroma sooo Italian
Like Monza and Imola Har har
I wish I was in Magny Cours
In a Citron set to go
My lemon-powered vehicle
More juiced than a Poiregeot
I drive a Massey Ferguson
A farmer's boy I am
It is a strange attractor
To every little lamb
I wish I were a tube of glue
I would be stuck on you
In fact I am quite super
and sticking's what I do
I wish I had a bus pass
Alas, I'm far too young Hur, hur, hur...
But never mind, I can wait
Until I am well-hung Yes, coat please....
These days there's no denying
That we eat far too much Still haven't finished me birfdy choccies.
So let's all check our diets
With low-fat meals and such
I wish I could be Santa
If only for a day
Let's say the 25th of June
Or else the 4th of May
Genius...
I wish I could write poems
Of elegance and style
That touched the reader's very soul
And left them with a smile.
I must not be unwary
Of opportunitee
So when the chance arises
I grab it all for MEE!
I wish I were a hosepipe
Connected to a tap
Instead I'm just a drainpipe
I'm really rather crap
I think my phone is dying
Its number has come up
I'm ringing for a doctor
But he can't think of a suitable rhyme for 'up'. Mercy killing
I really wish that Camembert
Did not smell quite so strong
I'd like to gobble down a pound
Despite the awful pong. oblig.
I wish that influenza ack ack
With whisky could be cured [Pen] Get well soon.
But this, I fear, is fanciful
But drink it if your bored. Get well soon, pen.
I wish that pen feels better
Than pencil in my hand What?!?
Abhor all things hexagonal
We live in circle land
I wish I were a hedgehog
Scuttling 'cross the road
I'd swerve between the traffic
Till permanently slowed
I wish I was a kerb stone
I just love to be stepped on
And scraped by fancy wheel-rims
And occasionally slept on
I wish I were a conductor (CdM) Nice one.
Feeding voltage to a train
Trundling up the District Line
My job's a shocking pain
I wish I were a Christmas card [pen] I was half expecting the rather more prosaic "and trundling down again."
Sold for charitee
For orphans or for UNICEF
With love for you from mee
I wish I was a Dundee cake
A-fill with fruitiness
Scoffed in no time - yum yum yum
Then thrown up - what a mess
Each day I feed my pussy cat
It grows a little fatter
And when I think it's grown enough
I'll fry it in some batter
I wish I were a lighthouse (Darren) You BASTARD!. Welcome back, BTW.
Standing firmly on a rock
So everyone who saw me [Rosie] Thanks!
Could sail in and safely dock
It seems the harbour's frozen up
And though it looks quite nice. easyfeeds r us
I think there'll be some fun and games
if someone has the dice
I wish I were a slithy tove
A-gimbling in the wabe
I'd stick one to a borogove
Then frabjously outgrabe
I wish I were on the Ning Nang Nong
Where the teapots jibber joo
My flannel's got a funny pong
Was that from washing you?
I wish I were a domino
Then all these spots I've got
Would mean more than just acne
They'd be right on the dot
My life is like a pack of cards
And fate is playing poker
I've only got a pair of eights
And Mr Soot the Stoker
I wish I were a roulette wheel
I'd take you for a spin
And if you said "Rien ne va plus!"
I'd still ask for your PIN.
And now alas, I'm stony broke
I've frittered all my cash
On booze and birds and lines of coke
Hidden textRude alternative:-On booze and birds I didn't poke.
You pay the bill - must dash!
I wish that Amy Winehouse would
Put on a paper bag
She really is an ugly, skinny,
Tone deaf, pissed up hag.
Findus fish fingers are no more Some spiffing ones in the last week, well done!
The Firm's be frozen out; iCPB - excellent
Captain Birds Eye rules the roost
Such gastronomic clout.
I wish my unicycle had
An extra wheel or two
For I'd prefer to bi- or tri-
-cycle along with you.
To drive an eighteen wheeler
Needs a beefy set of pecs
Unless there's power steering
Or warp drive (like Star Trek's)
I wish I were made of perspex
I just love acrylic glass
Every part of me'd be see-through
But not my clothes, alas.
I've just received a box of cheese
Tilsit and Bel Paese
My cheesy habit they will foster
Replacing Brie and Double Gloucester Don't get me started on cheese...
I wish the folks of Limpopo
Would choose a better name
And Peneloopij's scansion
Is OK. What a dame!
I wish I were a hedgehog
Curled up into a ball
A compact spiky little sphere
Impeneteraball. ....apologies....
I wish I were elastic
Your highly flexing friend
Our friendship is fantastic
But plastic in the end
[K, S, p (me), J] That one is exciting and sad at the same time.
I wish I were a Velcro strip
I'd stick where I'm not wanted
And when you ripped my sides apart
I'd be non-orthodonted. ....difficult....
I swim beside my manatee
She's such a gentle soul
Without a trace of vanity
We queue up for the dole
I wish I were a High Court Judge
I like to dress in wigs
With toupée tape they shouldn't budge
On my Old Bailey gigs
I wish I were a magistrate Continuing the legal theme
Sitting on the Bench
Dispensing justice all day long BTW; we had magistrate twice before
To every wanton wench
At last I've found my one true love
I found her in a cave
She dropped upon me from above
… It's been a splendid rave!
I wish I were a botanist
Researching Cannabis
I'd take samples home with me
And hallucinate in bliss
I wish I were the very last
On which my shoes were made
A boot I'd seek, a sole-searching soul
One that could be laid. coat!
I wish I wasn't left-hand-drive gah, I'm struggling with it - and often set off on the wrong side of the road, despite a new easy-to-drive car and a helpful sticker on the windscreen.
It's clearly just now right;
now = not :o(
I can't change gear with my right hand
Not since I had the fight moicy
For fifty miles I chased the Stig
In my Cooper S
But just as he was in my sights
I span off - what a mess.
They once put Clarkson in a tank
Of boiling caustic soda ...dream on...
But the b*stard's really so thick skinned
We wait to write his coda
I wish an anaconda could
Wear a feather boa
On the catwalk it would slither
With aplomb but ever slower
The mamba is a placid soul
(Invoking the Nash convention. Ogden Nash, that is.)
Whose gentle toxic bite
Will send you into ga-ga land
See one and take fright.
I wish I were in Kathmandu
Chug-a-lugging Gorkha beer
Climb a mountain? - no can do
I think I'll stay right here
When I once rode through Peckham
As a Spice Girls groupie
I thought that David Beckham
Was local slang for loopy.
I wish I were a pelican
A crossing's what I'd be
Not Zebra or pedestrian
Or Julia Roberts' brief for me
My y-fronts are the stretchy ones
Because I'm big down there
My feet are almost size eighteen Chalky - back on form, missus?!!
But them - my wife don't care
The hippo favours boxer shorts
So warm savannah breezes (unfinished sentence alert)
May aerate sundry nether parts
Which cures all known diseases.
The alligator's cheerful grin
Belies its fearsome chomp
Therefore, don't put fingers in
Unless that is your wont Making the best of irach's challenging rhyme
I wish I could have easy rhymes [Software]...how about "swamp...or stomp... or romp... or pomp"?
Like "me", "my", or "nasturtium"
And not have "alcohol" or "Thirsk"
Or Moses' firstborn, Gershom.
(Raak) .....who played in goal for Walton and Hersham. Good on crosses.
[irach] tried them, couldn't make 'em work
I love a well-constructed ark
And animals in pairs
With several decks to spread the load
And on the top, deckchairs.
Hidden textAnd underneath, a line.
I wish I were a blowlamp
I love the smell of burning paint
My blow job will impress you
And leave you feeling faint
Such fun to be a hippo!
And wallow in the mud!
The best thing about wallowing:
It's not something I should.
I wish for not a single thing
I'm rich and have it all
The cash, the cars, the yacht, the bling
Yes, I'm a Barbie doll!
My orca thinks a goldfish bowl
Is comfy, warm and snug
This bowl, of course, is very large
I cross it in a tug
I wish I'd been King Henry Eight
And ruled o'er all the land
My carnal appetite I'd sate
On Kates and Annes at hand
I wish I was a rolling stone
That could gather up Kate Moss
I'd be a model rock star
And use her just to floss
When a stone has finished rolling
It'll be o'er the hill
And all the moss it's gathered
Will be there still.
I wish the Pussycat and Owl
Would cease their constant rowing
They've got an outboard motor now
And really should get going
I had a little problem (i,K,SM,p - bravo)
Nothing would it ease
I had lots of honey
But still I lost my peas how satisfying
I had a little brainwave
'Twas no brain tsunami
The idea just came into my head
To join the Belgian army
I haven't got an earthly chance
Of shagging Hazel Blears
The thought of that just makes me weep
With joyful, happy tears
I wish a Snark (Boojum, or not)
Was not so hard to catch
So maybe I'll just not bother
As I think I've met my match
Lonely Grinch Would Like To Meet
A Who like Cindy Lou
For friendship, fun and maybe more
But anything will do
[Software] Excellent finish
En route from Clapham Junction
To Sunningdale, via Staines
A bloody signal failure
Oh, damn these BritRail trains!
I wish I were a satnav (irach) BR (British Rail) is no more. Privatised in 1994. Don't get me going. :-)
I'd tell you where to go
Turn left along this footpath
And then get out and row.
I wish I had a second home
Be it igloo or a yurt [Rosie]Forgive me my trespass. But then what do us Yanks know of things British such as bowlers, stumps and fish and chips, or haggises and kings? Maybe Brit Rail got privatised just because of those bloody signal failures pre-dating 1994 ;)
I'd furnish it from MFI (irach) Yep, private firms make lots of money installing dodgy signals and other private firms make equally large amounts repairing them. Sole purpose of the exercise.
And carpet it with dirt
Dorothy Parker -

I wish I could drink like a lady
I can take one or two at the most
Three and I'm under the table
Four and I'm under the host

I wish I were a spittoon
In which men expectorate
Though now, upon reflection
I should learn to delegate.
I wish Alfredo Garcia's head
Was brought today to me
On second thoughts instead
Invite him round for tea
I wish I were a biscuit
Dunked in a cuppa tea
I'd go from crisp to soggy
Before you count to three
I wish I were a talent scout
With power to recommend
For then you'd let me scout you out
To star in the West End
I stand at the end of the pier
Whoops, I may have limericked by mistake. Sorry.
[SM] Can be remedied....I wish I stood at pier's end
Playing the slot machines Fits either
I'd surely win the jackpot
And stuff it in my jeans
Whisht! I hear a whirring
The clock's about to chime
It's measure is unerring
Big Ben meets the test of time
Shall we have another?
The evening is young
Itsh jusht my fourth martini
And my wife has not yet rung
I wish I were a cactus
Then prickly I would be
I think a xerophytic life
Is just the life for me.
As I sit here slowly melting
Like a warming slab of butter
I long for rainstorms pelting
I'll go lie out in the gutter
I wish I had a magic lamp
The kind that I could rub
I'd conjure up a genie
or a lovely plate of grub
At last the clouds have shed their load
And all beneath is dripping.
How good it is to be a toad
Through puddles gently skipping
I wish I were a spin doctor
I'd fix your gyroscope
And with my centripetal force
It would then work, I'd hope
I wish I were pigeon
For even when I roam
I'd always find my way back to
The place that I call home. That would do very well spread over four illustrated pages in a book for small children.
[Raak] I'm onto it.
I wish my cluttered home-sweet-home
Could be defraged like a disk
I'd contemplate space, light, and air
But this involves some risk.
I work as an inspector
My beady eye sees all
If just one hair is out of place
I'll snood you- one and all
I wish I were a bishop
Complete with bishopric
I'd show it off to all the crowds
Even though I look a pr*ck
My plan has just revealed its flaw
Thwarting vic-tor-ee
It seems there is no winning move
Or derring-do by me
The winter wind is howling
On this summer's day
So much for Global Warming oblig.
It's gone the other way If only to move on...
I wish I were penelope
Squelching through the polder
Alas I think I'm Tuj or Raak This is just weird
E'en Rosie would be bolder
I wish I were a pirate They're so bold...
With eyepatch and a stump
I'd sail the seven seas for loot
And I'd always be a grump
I'd trade all my possessions
For just one night with you
I'd hang on to the condoms, though
I can only sup-port two.
I wish I only worked part-time I do...
Just 40 hours or so
I'd work them all contiguously
At a street pub in Warsaw
If I were on Big Brother never watch it, actually
Then, just to cause a scandal
I'd walk up to the cameraman
While naked, bar one sandal.
I wish I were an elephant
As big as big can be
And white would also be quite nice
But grey's OK by me
I want to spray my turtle with
A really good strong lacquer
So when I take it out to play   Is "turtle" a euphemism for something?
I'm Tito, he's maraca Tito Puente and I'd need another half for a complete set of maracas, obviously...
I wish my pet piranhas would
Learn some table manners
It never uses knife or fork
When eating their bananners Mercy killing
My pets were forty stripy snails
Who left trails of oozy slime
And so I say when all else fails
That oozy slime's sublime
It's small and green and scratchy
But it's also pretty cute
And when it snuggles up to me
It's not so hard to shoot
I wish I were an astronaut
Hurtling through the void
I'd fix Space Stations' toilet bowls
And ease my haemorrhoid
We ought to have a bonfire
To burn the falling leaves From my neighbour's bloody trees.
From my neighbour's bloody trees
I sweep them on my knees well, Mrs Software does, anyway ... sorry for leaping in.
We need to move the compost heap
Why is it in the lounge?
It warms the room, and as you know
It's eco-friendly - zounds!
The weeds are growing larger
Time to slash and burn (Softers) The only rhyme I could think of was scrounge.
Like Athens razed to ashes
Will we ever learn?
The flames have grown a bit too high
My burgers are imperilled!
I'll damp the flames with kerosene
My wife shouts, "Grow up, Gerald!"
I wish I wasn't burning
With such intense desire
To wish that I was yearning
For you to light my fire.
I wish I were a cricket ball
With stitched and puckered seam
I'd conjure up a googly
Be a spin bowler's dream
Their bats are made of willow
They play on a sticky wicket
Their stubble is like Brillo
It's prickly, so don't lick it
*Overheard*

I'll play a dazzling rhapsody
On all your pleasure centres
And drain you of your ecstacy
By taking out my dentures

...and now, back to our usual programme...

I wish my dentures would fit right
Up Rupert Murdoch's arse Dreadfully sorry....
Then perhaps he'd feel the need
to show a bit more class moving speedily along
I'd like a little drop of milk
To pour into my tea
And sugar too, for I'm a builder
So can you make it three?
I'm forming an opinion That last one was nice. Congrats me (p) R, R, SM
That I'd like to express
I want you for a minion
To get me out this mess
I wish I were a rubber stamp
I'm sure I'd make my mark
And I'd be quite officious
To be frank, an autarch
The Dirty Dancer's danced his last
And now is just a ghost
They mourn in the City of Joy
For now he is just toast.
I wish I were a teetotum
A dreidel or whirligig
But spinning make me giddy
Explain your elections in Swahili then goad unemployable layabouts, dig?
I wish I could change just one thing:
The way that my bike bell goes ting!
Sorry, thinking in limericks there...
Actually, it could still work if read in ti-tum-ti-tum-ti-tum-ti-tum metre and AABB rhyming.
I'd rather it went boing instead (continuing with Raak's suggestion)
And boggle all those folks ahead
I wish that she would tell me
How white my shirts could be
If laundry maids all armed with bleach
Would point and squirt for free
A splash of paint, a dob of glue
I shall build a balsa plane;
I'll tie a hampster underneath
For I'm a sadist; I do pain.
A whip, some chains and baby oil
Are all I need, with you
As you are quite the sexiest
Welder I ever knew
I wish I were a piano string
That's tuned to middle C
I'd be reverberatering
And shaking at the knee
My love is like a piano string
That's tuned to middle C
Oh, what duets with her I sing
Played in a major key.
My love is like a red, red rose I can feel some sort of cascade coming on.
But woe, alas, alack!
The thorns attached have pricked me so
No comfort in the sack
My love is like a high, high hill
For ever in the clouds
The constant fog makes me feel ill
I'll soon be wrapped in shrouds
My love is like a green, green toad
She's just about to croak
But if I kiss her on the lips
All lust goes up in smoke
My love is like a big red bus (CdM, INJ) You two are evil
Whose engine's mighty throb
Makes all the blood rush to my cheeks
Which gives me a red gob
My love just makes me sing the blues
All day and all night long
The blisters from my blue suede shoes
Give sole to every song
My love is like a pink, pink pig
For I bring home the bacon (Darren) Admirable restraint.
Which fills her belly, round and big
For my bitch she is Jamaican
[i, R, D. S] That last one made me snigger out loud. Pork scratchings all round.
My love is like a chocolate cake
She's soft and sweet and yummy
A delicious moment on the lips
A squirming in the tummy.
My hate is like a black, black hole
'Cos I was once a star
That fell right in upon myself
When I thought I'd go far
My love is like an elephant
But with a tiny trunk
My manhood has some shortcomings
So I'll become a monk.
My love is like a great big dog
That licks on me with glee
And when we make the two-backed beast
I keep my eye out for a flea.
My love is like the River Thames
It's very, very wet
And when my lover tires of this
I towel off the sweat
My love is of the cupboard type
With lovely louvred doors
But I secretly admire
Her polished wooden floors.
My love is like a hungry wolf
That rends me limb from limb
A perfect dominatrix
Though not exactly trim.
Hidden textAnd my God, what a quim!
My life is like a Broadway play
On third thoughts
My life is like a Broadway show
And not a Broadway play
All dancing-girls and razz'matazz
To watch it, you must pay
My love is like a cockatoo
All noise and show and strut
When 'Polly wants a cracker', well,
She'll peck at nothing but.
My love is like a London bus
but you won't let me stop dearie me
Even though there's room on top
For all who'd like a pop. ...disgraceful...
[K, me, S, R] Splendid. beautifully set-up.
My love is like a village hall
That hasn't got a roof
So when it rains we use the church
It's not the same to tell the truth
My love is like a deep, deep fjord
By Slartibartfast made
Her crinkly edges are a joy
If to them attention's paid
My love is like a smorgasbord
Laid down for all to eat
Now, which bit shall I have today
I think I'll bite her feet
My love is like a summer's day
(Not a British one of course)
We love to roll in new-mown hay
She reminds me of a horse
My love is like a wild, wild wind
From eating too much chili
She's loud and doth so like to gas
It fair doth shrink my willy.
My love is like a pint of ale
Her mug froths at the mouth
She's bitter, stout and sometimes pale
And commutes from Whyteleafe South. Sorry, but not many rhymes.
My shed is made of finest teak
With hand-made brass door-hinges
The door itself shall never squeak
Thus conceal my secret binges
When times are tough, I often go
And rub my genie's lamp
It makes him very happy, and
His trousers damp Sorry, sorry, sorry ...
My love is like the purest thing Shameful, Softers, shameful...
Just think of driven snow
My love's more fluffy, whiter too
And just ten quid a go.
My love's a stream of bat's piss
Amber nectar from on high
And when I steal a fruity kiss
It squirts me in the eye
My love is much like fish and chips
A warm and greasy friend
The strangest feeling on the lips
In ecstasy I transcend
My love is like a pitted prune
A bit like my complexion
It looks its worst in early June
Bright sun shows each imperfection
My love is like a saxophone
As played by John Coltraine [Software] I hate to bellyache, but you've provided the last line in five out of the last six Glow Worms and spoiled the scansion in four of them. Please could you try to stick to "de-dum de-dum de-dum-dum"?
hear hear Kim
The scansion in Glow Worms can be anything that is rhythmic and fits; it does not have to be de-dum de-dum de-dum
Caressed it makes a blissful moan [Kim, Lurker] Luck of the draw, old mates. See also Rosie.
But blown it squeals in pain
His love is deeper than the sea
Hard to fathom , coral tough
And when she walks by with a wave,
It nearly is enough eh?

Their love is something never said
They do but gasp and grunt
While intertwined in passion
Imagine a final line containing the phrase ...thrust through her... Or perhaps not.
With a Bank to Morden shunt.
My love is like a teddy bear
He's bald; one eye is missing
He's furry and he paws on me
And squeaks when we are kissing
I wrote a letter to my love [S, p, i, K - delightful.]
Expressing my intention
Her answer came wrapped round a brick
Declaring her abstention
My love encompasses all things
All creatures great and small
Except the pygmy marmoset
I don't like it at all.
My love is like a boil-ed sweet
It's sweet and hard and sticky
And when I suck it in my cheek
I give myself a hickey
Our love was never rash or wrong
But rauchy, wriggly, rapt
Er, raunchy.
Now I'm covered in a itchy rash
All poxy, syphed, and clapped.
My loves are lovely, dark and deep
Consisting, as they do
Of Amelle, Jade and Heidi
Hidden textThe Sugababes, fyi
Tweety Pie and Wicky Woo
My love is like a firework
That explodes, then fades to dark
My cherry bomb has long been popped
We did it in the park.
The wisest thing I ever heard
I now will tell to you:
When romantic'lly you've erred We await the wisdom - who's it going to be, who's it going to be?
Just hide the corpse from view.
My love is like a stifled sneeze
Which makes your ears go pop
It's better out than in, I say
So don't let your knickers drop My coat is the one at the left hand side ...
My love is like an urban fox
A-rifling in the trash or 'bin' if you're English. You choose.
She slinks along the midnight docks
Exchanging sin for cash or vice versa if you speak Brit English
My love is like a whooping crane
Slender, tall, aloof
She eats raw fish for breakfast
While standing on the roof
My love is like a tower crane
She stands so tall and strong
Lifting bricks to dizzy heights
As she does my dong. lovely girl
My love is quite the ding dong bell (belle?)
She says I sound her chimes
We make love in the steeple
Countless, sinless times
Comme haut arbre est mon amour
Ca me paraît sans fin
Et moi, j'n'suis que minuscule
J'ai une pine, hélas, pas un pin.
Mein Liebling ist eine heftige Frau
Who doesn't speak the lingo
But underneath her monobrow
She thinks of naught but bingo.
My chair is made of plasticine
It moulds to my own shape
But when my cat sits on it
It acts like sticky-tape
My other chair's a Chippendale
With strong and shapely arms
It stoutly holds my nether end
While I display my charms
I sit in this ejector seat
Thanking heavens my hair is all neat
have we slipped mode?
Well, just for one ode
Back to normal when this is complete
The normal service is resumed
And nights feels most ashamed
That deed must never be exhumed
And no-one will be blamed
I sit in this ejector seat
With my finger poised over 'Re-Tweet'
(pen) Whyjer do that?
Because I have flu and my brain isn't working properly... sorry. Try again...
I sit in this ejector seat
And press the big red button
Alas, I'm in a 'copter
Over Carshalton and Sutton
I wish I were a beer mat (Chalky) :-)
Soaking-up real ale
But sadly I'm a meerkat [Rosie] ;-)
Deserted, full of fail
I wish that on the internet
I'd find just one true thing
Bat sadly there is Google
And, even worse, there's Bing
I wish I were the Christmas elf [Phil] the exact line I had envisaged ;o)
Who loads old Santa's sled
For after working all day long
I get ou' me 'ead.
I wish my Christmas stocking
Were twenty-four feet long
For holding my gift ladder
And the cast of 'Desert Song'
I wish I spoke Italian
Just like old Silvio
Coz the translation for 'stallion'
Is 'Sly Stallone' dontcha know Kapow.
I wish I were a snowflake
All flaky, frigid, cold
But I would be so delicate
I'd crumble, truth be told.
I wish I was a skater I've never seen the Dutch get so excited about anything so much as the prospect of canal skating at the weekend. Looking less likely now, though
In frilly lycra tights
Head down and arms a-flailing
On me you'd set your sights
I wish I were the evening star
Hesperus by name Hesperus by nature. Nudge, nudge.
Chuffing down to Swindon way
To take the wall of shame

- my paternal grandmother - god rest her soul - used the phrase 'wreck of the Hesperus' on a daily basis - not really sure why. She never mentioned evening stars or Swindon environs.

There's something 'bout a limerick
Don't know quite what it is (Chalky)
Hidden textSofters and I occasionally exchange cryptic references to steam locos in these pages and elsewhere in the Morniverse. "Evening Star" was the name given rather sentimentally to the last steam locomotive built by British Railways, at Swindon in March 1960. Ugly great thing, more like the Wr of the H. My Mum's favourite phrase was "Patience on a monument."
P'raps it is the scansion [rosie] ;o)
Or just where the wit is
This is my resolution:
Just ten square meals a day
One hundred miles of cycling
Then sell it on eBay
I wish I were a stick of rock
My avatar writ through
Or gothic-scribed with 'Blackpoo'[sic]
But Milton Keynes will do
I wish I were a Rolling Stone
Pref'rably Sir Michael
I'd proudly flaunt my rubb'ry lips
Which daily self-recycle
I wish I was a slow, sure thaw
That melts the ice and snow
I'd change the ice to sogginess
And make the rivers flow.
I wish I had a shopping list
To go with my fat wad
Because I'm so impulsive
At following a fad
It does not take me very long
In fact no time at all
To type into this little box
And see my words writ small
I wish I was a bulldog
Of true-bred British stock
Ugly, short and brutish ...shut up at the back...
And with a squash-ed clock
I've eaten too much fish and chips
To run the steeplechase
I'm wiser just to stay indoors
My tummy needs some space.
I wish I was a haggis
In the Highlands I would roam
Hunting down the savage neeps
For I'm no gastronome.
I wish I were a skier
A-hurtling fast downhill
A tree! I'd better veer
I wish I had the skill...
I wish I were a molecule
Bound covalently
With my neutrons and my protons
Yearning to be free
I wish I was Obama's dog
-ged Secretary of State
Then I'd have a dogged husband
With whom all shall mate.
I wish I were the King of Hearts
Ensconced 'tween Ace and Queen
I'd give you diamonds at the club
I think it has to be conceded that, sometimes, there simply is no last line capable of rounding off a stanza effectively.
I ask you to consider
[Kim] is that a first line? I was tempted to finish it myself, though poor form as I started it. I thought that:
Just don't ask where I've been
would have worked nicely.
What you'd do if I Assuming Kim's is a first line.
Was not the only bidder I looked at it a few times and ... gave up. But top notch, Softers. Why didn't you put it in?
For your loving eye.
I wish that global warming would
Come to this frozen waste
And make it just like Benidorm [pen] :o)
As tacky, lacking taste oblig
I wish I were a bar of soap
With a deodorant scent
I'd caress your every orifice
Until we're both quite spent
The Perry Bible Fellowship
Was born in Syracuse
Sometime's its just not funny giving a kick start
Depends upon your views.
I wish I were a bible
That stopped a 357   (a bullet calibre)
For then I would be holey
And finish up in Heaven oblig.
I wish I were a skating rink
Of ice - not just a roller
'Cos then I'd look up girlies' skirts
And pray for lack of solar Mercy killing
The problem with computers
Continually gets worse
We shouldn't all need tutors
Just ask the Morniverse
Were I the Easter Bunny
I'd bounce and skip and play
I'd dole out no coloured eggs
But only shades of grey.
Be careful what you wish for
Upon that far-off star
It could become black dwarf
Or go nova - worse by far
If ever you wish on a tsar
Make sure that you know C.P.R. limerick?
But something else will do
So let's plump for a clerihew
Eyjafjallajokull
Made all airlines look like a fool
But now it's relented (Chalky) And here's another one.
And the CAA's rep is dented. Heard on the radio this morning, someone saying that the policy had been zero tolerance for ash, and that the level deemed safe had now been raised by a factor of 10.
I wish I were a pilot
Recently on leave
For I wouldn't have to fly in ash
I'm really not naive - enough of this? I say yay.
I wish I were a shooting star
That others wish upon
But if I land in your back yard
You'll see that's just a con
I wish I were a tea-bag
Gently brewing in a pot
Unmindful of the scalding
Surroundings that I've got
If I could walk a silly walk
I'd join the Ministree
I'd hop and lurch and high-kick twice
And still not spill my tea
I'm glad I'm not a pollster
Like Gallop, YouGov, Mori
My prediction would be iffy
And punters would be sorry
I wish I was a baritone
Unlike say, Elton John
Then I'd seem more manly
When taking on the Don
I wish I were Mount Everest
Five miles high and more
My lofty heights are tempting
But your legs won't half be sore mercy killing
I wish I could show mercy
To all my enemies
But I like the feel of power
To see them begging on bent knees
I wish I were a blender Blender, I said.
Filled up with lentil soup
I'd whizz and whizz and whizz and whizz
Spinning leguminous goop
I'm getting very lazy
I put it down to age
I think much more before I do
Because my bird escaped its cage.
I drank a Bloody Mary
I won't do that again
It was full of tomato juice
Alas, it had no gin.
I wish it would stop raining
Assuming a missing line
penelope - I wish it would stop raining
Software - My hair is getting wet
That damp-dog odour follows me
I smell just like a pet!
I wish I were a business card
So slick like Fonzarelli
I'd hand myself out at the pub
Too bad they're watching telly
I wish I were a vuvuzela
Buzzing all day long
'Twould even kill Methuselah
Can so many be so wrong?
I wish I were on holiday
Amidst the snowy peaks
Alas I am in Basingstoke
Amidst the yobs and freaks
I like my pies with gravy
Deep fried with mushy peas
Gastronomic'lly I'm cheap
And not difficult to please
I wish I'd put yeast in my dough
My bread has gone all flat
Can water possibly make it grow?
Nah ... Let's stuff it with fat!
Now tear along the dotted line
At sixty miles an hour
Veer not to either left or right
Just go straight full power.
I wish I were a football match
Shown on ITV
With ad breaks for consumer goods
The money'd go to me!
We play the vuvuzela with
With England on our mind
Just add a swannee whistle and
(Anyone for a swannee-vuvuzela performance?)
And you'll go deaf and blind    Wait. "Swannee whistle" is a euphemism, right?
I wish I were a scarecrow
Standing in a sunny field
I'd buy all the suntan lotion
Until everybody peeled!
The poppy fields are my domain
They earn me quite a packet
So I'll defend them might and main
Against a Cosa Nostra racket
I wish I were a football
Just kicked around by all
Except, that is, the England team
Or that of nearby Gaul.
A football should be round and firm
Just like an apricot
Which should be sweet of taste in turn
– Reject it if it's not
I was sort of hoping for "Just like a football's not".

I wish you'd never shown me
How not to kick that ball
Then I'd not have played for England
And come home with f*ck all .. moving swiftly on ...
I wish I were a clothes peg
Clamped tightly on your knickers
A freshening breeze blows up your leg sorry sorry sorry
Quite startling passing vicars
American Football's what Charlie Brown would play
But the ball he would kick is shaped more like an egg
But Gordon Brown played rugby with an oval ball bit clunky, this
And Lord George-Brown would never budge from square leg. "Many modern poems are like bells of lead. They should tinkle melodiously, but usually they just klunk." (Dunsany) Can we tinkle a little more melodiously, please?
I wish melodious tinkles would
Less often splash the seat [irach] That's what you were angling for, isn't it?
But sitting isn't manly
When your trochees touch your feet
I wish I were a radio mic
Attached to Gordon Brown oblig.
Then I could let the whole world know
Why governments fall down mercy
I wish my suitcase would come back
From far-off Timbuktu
Alas, its British Airways - from bitter experience
So my bag's now in Peru
I wish I'd never mentioned
My girl-friend to my Mum
As now she wants to meet her
And then become her chum
I wish I were a conker (Softers) This has happened to me in the past. It is Not Good.
A hundreder at least
With n'eer a dent upon me
I'd slay the slimy beast!
I wish I were a croûton
Dunked in hot onion soup
From then I'd become soggy
And lost in all the gloop.
I wish I was in England just got off the ferry from Hull this morning and feeling very foreign here again - but managed to use my clumsy Dutch to ask for change to use the car wash - hurrah!
Drinking brown English ale
Watching cricket in the rain[pen] you found someone in the Netherlands that doesn't speak English! Spraken het Netherlands has corrupted your grammar, surely it is subjunctive when one wishes ;o)
And reading The Daily Mail who lives in the United States!
I wish I were made of purple taffeta
All shiny and crisp on the outside, lined with pink satin I'm not sure what metre this is...some sort of pentameter it seems, in a mixture of iambs and amphibrachs
I would look just like Liberace
With a flouncy bag to put my hat in And now, back to normal...
I wish it was steak pie tonight Sausages tonight. Steak pie on Thursday but I'm stewing it now and it smells delish... freezer full of imported English food, y'see
Instead it's bloody sausages A rhyming challenge, but it was forced, really.
But with onions and mash (CdM) Yeah, forced. Chips? I dunno.
I minimise my lossages.
I wish I were in Camelot
With Arthur and his pals
I'd ride a steed and lance a lot
Of the "purty" gals.
I wish I were a cola
Instead, I'm Panda pop
I'm not the drink, I'm the game!
And my scansion seems to drop
My fizz and sparkle all leached out
Upon these barren shores
So back to Ramsgate I must sail
And clean my facial pores!
I wish that flotsam didn't float
And jetsam would just sink
But water, it is just too dense
Though fish ne'er touch the brink!
I wish I were a hosepipe
But not while there's a drought
I like to spout, not dribble
And wear my knickers inside-out!
My water-butts are all quite full
Of slime and rotting leaves
So into it you thus must luzz
Wot a tangled ryme we weaves!
There isn't time to start the day
The sun is still asleep
And so am I
Deep
My snore, I'm told, is very loud
I could wake the dead.
And, alas, my other half
Takes someone else to bed sorrysorrysorry
I wish I were the Ace of Spades (pen) Yeah, me too. Farting.
For I so love to dig
I'd dig for diamonds and win hearts
And spend time in the brig.
I wish I were in Shangri-la
Or else in Xanadu
Fulham Road just ain't the same
When I am not with you.
Next month I'm getting married
To my cousin's mother's brother
I only really chose him
'Cos oldies, there's no other!
My uncle is the man I married
So therefore we're both gay
My step-kids are my cousins
And **** lots when they play! (I know...so wrong.)
These rhymes are getting pretty racy
We'd better tone it down.
It's time for straight-laced prudence
To shed her straight-lace gown
I wish I were a road hump
I'd slow you down for sure
I'd mess with your suspension
And shake you to the core There is a local road here where the bloody things are so high and narrow that they bottom on my gearbox - grrrrr!
[Software] You can bottom on my gearbox any time
I wish I were a camel's hump
The dromedary kind
A hairy desert-crossing lump
A seat for your behind
I wish the game of Limericks
Would only need four lines
Then that would save on typing
and leave time for shoeshines.
I wish I were a wiener
And on the Danube be
So please don't wish my town goodnight
We waltz til half past three
I wish I were in Amsterdam
Relaxing with a spliff
I'd close my eyes and take a drag
And chase a hippogriff.
I wish a were Geordie (Kag S, Giert)
Hidden text = From north-east England. Agreeable but incomprehensible speech, football-mad, often lacking both sobriety and appropriate clothing etc, etc.
With tons o' kegs 'o beer
I'd never share them with my friends
They're Southerners, thus queer!
Hidden text[Rosie] Take that, old chum :-)
I wish I were a Welshman
Brandishing a leek
I'd be "Leek King" of Casnewydd
I wish I played cassette tapes
With Dolby Stereo sound
But I have just my eight-track
And half a lousy pound.
I wish that pair would go away
You know just who I mean
I think that same thought every day
It's not the king and queen.
I wish a were a candlestick
Hot wax poured down my body
Depilating furtively
I'd hate to be Bill Oddie oblig. What a load of rot. Can we please have some sense in limericks, if that's not an oxymoronic thing to ask?
I wish I was a ninja's sword
Most dangerous to wield
I'd snicker-snack 'til daybreak
While talking to the shield
The vole deserves a mention
For its green and frugal life
As also its fecundity
Who'd be the vole's poor wife?
Let's not forget the porcupine
He's sharp and to the point
But when it comes to making love
It takes much more than 'point and shove' point??? Also, *gets coat*
Now let us praise the noble eel
Anoint it with hot oil
Its slimy length slips down the throat
To in your tummy coil
eeeeuuuuwwwww
The river bed is home to chub
Chubby as chubs can be
A little maggot on a hook
Then supper - yes sirree
Now its time to talk of tench
But not of Angelfish
A tench is just a would-be carp
And makes a tasty dish.
Consider now the salmon
Which jumps upstream to spawn
It has no need for smutty books
Or any brains, just brawn
The cod, a northern waters type
Is tasty? No, that's just hype
But in its time its caused more wars
Than a baby's dirty dipe. Was struggling for a rhyme.
When the Northern Sea gets stormy
And the fishing boats are tossed
The humpback whales start singing
As the the cod find to their cost.
I wish I were a trawlerman Welcome back, Rosie
Battling the icy waves
But I am a much smaller man
A youth who rarely shaves
I wish these piranha lacked teeth
So they would not scan so badly
While swimming by the Barrier Reef
And masticating madly.
The way to treat a gentleman
To keep him on his toes
is to tap him on the shoulder
And recite some bawdy prose
A common chap, it must be said
Stands firm upon the ground
A baseball cap atop his head
His belly large and round.
A man with just a bit of class (or class, depends on where you're from as to how you say it)
Beats a man who just has none
He'll play down his credentials
But you'll know that you've been done
I wish I were an aardvark oblig.
Munching down on yummy ants
Instead I'm just a card shark
Five aces in my pants
I wish I were a kinkajou
It's such a cutesy word
The carcajou is just passé
A wolverine, I've heard.
Among the forest, lives something
Hidden textIt seems that sometimes when people try to rhyme the 1st and 3rd lines, the poems don't scan and they forget that the 2nd and 4th lines should rhyme.
With twenty thousand eyes
But the twenty thousand cataracts
Cause twenty thousand styes
The telly has a broken screen
The rain drips through the roof
There's dry rot in the window frames
And mildew on the pouffe
I wish I had a winning line
For my football pool do they still have those?
I'd keep my secret to myself
And count my cash, and drool.
I've bloody won the jackpot!
In my office sweep
I got the winning ticket
The prize? A blow-up sheep :-(
My di-ri-gi-ble ovine
Gives me a lot of fun
Confusing all the sheepdogs
Sensors (please excuse the pun)
Yesterday was my birthday
The 27th one
Everybody ate lots of turkey
And learned how to write Glowworms
I wish I could knit sweaters
Or even crochet scarves
My bottom might not be so cold
I'll not do things by halves
This trend for shortening player's names
Deserves a special mensh
It makes me an Egyptian god
But I am still a wench.
I feel like I'm a little Greek
Mine suits my occupation
This looks much more malible
But I'm just a negation
Run down and slightly suspect
And suffering with acid
I'm not in my element
And not much good when flassid
I wish I were in Lapland
With Santa and his reindeer
I'd take a curing water bath SO looking forward to the rhyme match on the last line ...
To get rid of this pain, dear
It seems quite elemental
To measure stuff by hand
But in case of more precision
Use a rubber band!
For a pet, I want a unicorn
A griffon or centaur
I shun such things as pussy cats
They leave me wanting more
I wish I were a shovel
In a brawny stoker's hand
Feeding hungry furnaces
Ah! Wouldn't life be grand!
I wish I were a Christmas pud too early?
Made by Blumenthal
Maybe I'd taste really good
arrow_circle_down
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