mc5 - Pea and Honey Recipes

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

There's something 'bout a limerick

Don't know quite what it is (Chalky)

Hidden text

Softers 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!

Running the line ...

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

And win races like a Greek.

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 text

It 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

If made in the fall!

It seems the snow has cleared at last

Or turnèd into slush

Both arms, one leg in plaster cast

Take heed: on ice don't rush!

The honeymoon is at an end

A split is on the cards

He caught her in the bellboy's arms

Drinking pints and yards Nice pub, the Bellboy's

It seems we never take a break

From standing on our feet

Except when we are lying down

Felled by the icy street

I wish I were an asteroid

Careering round in space

Waiting to be named after

One of the human race

I wish I were a reindeer

I'd rein in all the deer

I'd put vermilion on their snouts

And a tail-light on their rear.

I wish that I had Santa's sack

Full of Christmas goodies

I'd give those reindeer all a smack bah humbug

Like ASBO-worthy hoodies.

I'm flippin' sick of Christmas

How sick? That's so polite!

I've upchucked all my cookies

On Giertrud - out of spite

I wish I were a bottle

Of moonshine or poteen

I'd upchuck all my stomach contents

And turn dear Spangle green.

Hidden text

Revenge, sweet revenge.

It's now two-oh-eleven

You had said half-past-eight

On this stairway to heaven

I hate it when you're late.

I wish I were a blowlamp

With a single fiery eye.

Whate'er I looked at would burn up

And in-stan-tally die.

I forgot to wear my underwear

Commando by default

Mercy killing I'm hopeless and I'm childish
A clueless simple dolt

I cannot make the meeting

I'm running rather late

Leaves on the line at Coulsden

Have really clogged the gate.

They say we must work harder

But won't pay a penny more

I've got an empty larder

And rats upon the floor
I only wish the bosses

Could live on crumbs and gruel

This may well cut their losses

Or just shareholders fool

I'd rather be in Timbucktu

Unearthing ancient books

Rather than be a sous chef

One of too many cooks

I say! This broth is spoiled

Waiter, can you catch this fly?

Don't worry, sir, it's boiled

Never mind, I'll take the pie

A Broadway play on tour

Performed by English men

Arrived in Pascagoula

Then quickly left again

This crossword is too cryptic

It would take a cipher whiz

Or that bloke that's down the pub

Who always wins the quiz

This rumpsteak is too chewy

It's made from kangaroo

It's served à la chop suey

Quickly, where's the loo? [Spangle] just what I had in mind

I wish I were a satnav Trad.

Signaled by GPS

I'd have you drive right through a lake

and make you a big mess.

I've ne're time to play this game

For that we're truly pleased

So this line isn't really here

It's just something I sneezed

laughs out loud

arrow_circle_down

Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord