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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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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
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