mc5 - Pea and Honey Recipes

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.

Darren

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 text

The 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

Diogenes Raak

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

iracjh

All flaky, frigid, cold

But I would be so delicate

Pablo

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 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:

Projoy

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!

hemline

ImNotJohn

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!

Julian Clary

[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

Sierra Mike

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 Say, Porter!

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

Whootz

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

Darren

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

ImNotJohn

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!

ImNotJohn

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

Whootz

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

Spang

I'll not do things by halves

penel

This trend for shortening player's names

Spang

Deserves a special mensh

Ra

It makes me an Egyptian god

Ros

But I am still a wench.

Phi

I feel like I'm a little Greek

pen

Mine suits my occupation

Soft

This looks much more malible

ImNot

But I'm just a negation

Cd

Run down and slightly suspect

Ph

And suffering with acid

FG

I'm not in my element

Sp

And not much good when flassid

SW

I wish I were in Lapland

FG

With Santa and his reindeer

Spa

I'd take a curing water bath SO looking forward to the rhyme match on the last line ...

Im

To get rid of this pain, dear

Tu

It seems quite elemental

Span

To measure stuff by hand

SW

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

Projoy

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

I wish I were a sewer rat

Just lolling in the muck

To live in filth is de rigeur

If fragrant you're a schmuck
mercy killing - ain't it curious how some of these little ditties just take off and others hang around like a smell on a landing ..

I wish I were a landing smell yeah... oblig.

Pervading everywhere

My sulphuretted compounds

Would announce Kilroy was there.

I wish I were a poultergeist

A ghost of chickens past

I'd just pull off my drumsticks

Then headlessly run fast

I wish I were a tuba

With a 'normous shiny bell

My basso tones will resonate

And make your life sheer hell. This has sat here for 9 days so I've finished it myself. I wouldn't say it was a particularly difficult one.

I wish I were an endgame Time, gentlemen?

A glow-worm's final thrust

The last bright glimmer in the dark

Arising from the dust

Why kill it? It moves faster than any other game in MC5.

I wish you'd all just go away

I know just what you mean

You're really getting up my nose

Like Elton John, great queen.

My phone ate the "whoops" button

didn't realize we were missing our dividing line
My phone ate the "whoops" button

It thought it was delicious (this is the 2nd line - the first is "my phone at the whoops button)

It tasted of old mutton

Which makes me feel suspicious

I wish to make a statement

That will edify the press:

"I've got loads of money -

Most people have got less."

I wish I were a paintbrush

Thrust deep in thick, thick paint

I'd spread it 'cross your canvas

But an oil painting? You ain't.

I need some inspiration

My mind has drawn a blank

Has anyone got any thoughts

I did have, but they stank.

(Rosie has cleverly made my move look like I forgot the question mark.)

[Knobbers] That's cut-throat competitve poetry for you. Well - doggerel dogfights, anyhoo.
It's funny how your brightest thoughts

Are had while in the bath

These musings land one in the courts (Knobbly) So you did. I've only just noticed.
(pen) Knobbers? Knobbers?? You're dir'y.

If played out before a hearth Broad "a" mode.

I wish I were a lawyer

Who travels place to place

Distributing fee notes

And winning every case

I'm glad I'm not a banker

For bonuses I hate

Those coins weigh down my pockets

And make me very late.

Beware the Jabberwock my son!

His eyes are all aflame

Be bold, and with your vorpal sword

Restore our family name.

This recipe for meatloaf

Needs garlic -- twenty cloves

This means that it can stop a train

And empty it, in droves Hmmm. Maybe someone else could have done it better.

I wish that I could write a verse [pen] good result given the circumstance

In praise of paradigms

But that would clearly be peverse

So just do one that rhymes.

I wish that I were far away

In fabled Samarkand

I'd grab a passing camel

And ride across the sand

I've learned why these are called glowworms

(Though I haven't quite mastered the form)

Though they're nothing like a limerick

Nobody really notices if I add an extra beat or two - hang on, where's me mate?