arrow_circle_left arrow_circle_up arrow_circle_right
Pea and Honey Recipes
help
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.
arrow_circle_up
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
arrow_circle_down
Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord