Jack Pippin

•March 28, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Of all of the boys you ever have met

Jack would do anything if you made him a bet

He’d stand on one leg for more than an hour

Or suck on a lemon just to check it was sour 

.

Although he was willing to stand up to tests

He tended to push things too far in excess

He’d take on a challenge that anyone proffered

then increase the size of the bet that was offered

. 

Angus gave Jack a huge apple to eat

And challenged him to eat the whole thing complete

The pips, the peel, and all of the core

Had to be eaten till there was no more 

   .

Not one to shy from a challenge laid down

Jack looked at the apple and gave it a frown

Surely one apple was easy to eat

He needed a much bigger task to complete! 

   .

He bought some more apples, a very large bag

So many it caused the tea table to sag!

He opened his mouth in the morning to munch

And continued at pace until way after lunch 

.

By teatime his speed had considerably slowed

He sat at the table all hunched and head bowed

Juice all down his front and pulp over his face

He struggled on, though at a much slower pace

. 

Finally finished, the challenge complete

He went to the garden for air and a seat

Unfortunately somewhere in Jack’s bloated tum

Something was plotting a grisly outcome 

.

Quite without warning like many boy’s fears

Leaves began sprouting from out of his ears

It seems all the pips he had eaten with glee

Had sprouted and sprung up a very fine tree 

.

As branches formed leaves, then blossom, then fruit

Jack suddenly feared for the exit of roots

By now far to late to do anything more

The tree rooted downwards and into the floor!  

.

By the time that his parents had seen what he’d done

An apple tree stood and our young Jack was gone

The tree stands there still, to teach us the lesson

Avoid all the pips in a fruit eating session!

Chocolate sauce on your cornet?

•March 13, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Dirk took out his cornet and into it blew

But pushing too hard he then followed through

It caused much disquiet amongst all the band

As reaching behind him he coated his hand

 

The concert proceeded despite all the mess

And Dirk played his pieces, or least tried his best

But sadly the poo that fell as he played

Was blown at the crowd who all became sprayed

 

Given the uproar that this event caused

The brass band stopped playing, the concert was paused

The lesson Dirk learned for when playing his brass

Was to blow with his mouth, and not with his ass!

Squits

•March 13, 2008 • Leave a Comment

I’ve got an ache inside my tummy

I had better tell my mummy

What’s inside comes out all runny…

Tommy

•March 13, 2008 • Leave a Comment

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Tommy was a clever boy

A lovely lad to meet

But Tommy had a problem

When it came to washing feet

 

His mum could bribe him, ask and plead,

Or shout with rage and scream

He did not care, he would not budge

He would not make them clean

 

As time went by, the dirt built up

His feet began to smell

So much in fact his socks stayed on

And soon his shoes as well

 

He said ” I do not like to wash”

“I will not clean and rub”

“I do not see the point in soap”

“and don’t intend to scrub!”

 

Inevitably his filthy feet

Began to reek and stink

So much they put him off his food

And this made Tommy think

 

Was washing really all that bad

If he then got his dinner

If he couldn’t eat his tea

He might end up much thinner

 

Begrudgingly he said he’d wash

And overcome his fear

But just so he could eat his food

And only once a year!

•March 13, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Link to Jake The Cake.

Answerphone

•March 12, 2008 • Leave a Comment

An Answerphone inside my head,

now that would be a pleasure,

to get those voices down on tape,

and listen at my leisure.

Itchy Bottom Dog

•March 12, 2008 • Leave a Comment

I once had a dog with a peculiar habit,

Sat down on his bum with knees up like a rabbit,

He’d proceed to move forward reaching paw over paw,

Whilst dragging his bottom around on the floor. 

  

My mum wasn’t pleased having seen what he’d done,

As he’d written his name on the floor with his bum,

He spun and he turned as he moved ‘cross the floor,

And gathering pace headed out of the door. 

  

He seemed to be writing a list of demands,

Which he wanted applied across all of the land,

A new bill of rights for all dogs and their friends,

He wanted the suffering of canines to end. 

  

He wrote that dogs don’t like to chase after sticks,

Do poodles like bows in their hair? Not a bit!

The wearing of collars and walks in the park,

The chasing of cats and then having to bark. 

  

Having another dog sniff at your bum,

With shouts from your owner of “Come Rover, Come!”

Eating cheap dog food and wagging your tail,

And being told off for just chewing the mail. 

  

Balancing biscuits on top of your nose,

Or having to sleep on someone’s old clothes,

Catching a frisbee whilst up in the air,

And getting complaints about shedding your hair. 

  

People don’t realise dogs are like us,

They don’t like to walk when they could catch the bus,

They’d like nothing better than a house and a job,

To get rid of “Rover” and replace it with “Bob” 

   

But dogs have to grasp that they cannot be us,

They just can’t compete with us humans because,

They can’t write things down with no opposable thumbs,

So they’re forced on the carpet to write with their bums…

Nose Picking

•March 12, 2008 • Leave a Comment

I like to forage up my nose, to catch a crusty edge,
then prizing out from deep within, I pull out all the rest,

Bogies are a funny mix of crust and bits of goo,
How do they get there, no one knows, I only know they do,
   

Some are hard, some are soft, they come all shapes and sizes,
I like the way you never know, I like to get surprises,

Some people flick, some people eat, some wipe under their seat,
some people they do things with snot, I’d rather not repeat,

Your parents say its not polite to roll and then flick snot,
I bet even the Queen’s been known, but maybe not a lot,

The truth be told we have to pick to clear out any stoppage,
Explosions in the end result from too much bogie blockage…

Cowpat

•March 12, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Round and flat
Compact mat
Brown not black
Gloss then matt
Once it’s dry … useful hat!

Noisy Boy Jack

•March 12, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Noisy Boy Jack 

Thumping, thundering, noisy young Jack

How can a boy be as rowdy as that? 

Pounding, pummelling, up in his room

I think that the ceiling might fall on me soon. 

Belching, burping, eating his tea

Not how I’d behave in polite company. 

Bumping, blustering, at home and at school

Even the library despite any rules. 

Snorting, shouting, awake or asleep

Life with our Jack is no good for the meek!