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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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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
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