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A poem can be many things - it can be deep (in fact, that’s probably the first thing that pops into your mind when thinking about poems), it can be sad, and, among all the other things, it can be hilariously funny, too. And even if the topic discussed in such a funny poem isn’t necessarily an amusing one, the way the words are placed and rhymed makes it into a helluva fun poem. And if you need any examples of hilarious poems, you’ve come to the right place because here you’ll find more than a hundred of them!
So, what should you expect from these funny short poems besides them tickling your funny bone? Well, some of these are, in fact, pretty deep verses that talk about the human condition in a snarky way, thus making it all seem eerily funny. But funny nonetheless. Then, there are some pretty charming funny love poems here, of course. Because what’s funnier than love, amiright? Then there are a couple of short poems for kids mixed in and, of course, a dose of cool poems for adults alike. So, any way you look at it, this is a well-rounded selection of hilarious verses that span various topics. And that’s just the way we like it!
Now, ready or not, these funny rhymes are waiting for you just a bit further down. Once you get there, vote for the best poems, and after that, you might want to share this article with your friends!
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#1
"Be Glad Your Nose is On Your Face" by Jack Prelutsky
Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place—
be glad your nose is on your face!
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#2
"A Crime Scene" by Albert Van Hoogmoed
There's been a murder, a woman was killed,
found in a bathtub, partially filled.
A pair of policemen went into the house
and questioned the poor woman's spouse.
He'd just come home from working all night
and found her like that, a terrible sight.
The younger policeman looked on with dismay.
He'd never forget that terrible day.
He saw the young woman from behind the door
and empty milk cartons all over the floor,
Scattered strawberries, slices of fruit,
and spoonfuls of sugar and honey to boot.
''Who could have done this terrible thing?''
His voice had a horrified, pitiful ring.
''Just look at the clues,'' replied Sargeant Miller.
''It looks like the work of a cereal killer.''
#3
"The People Upstairs" by Ogden Nash
The people upstairs all practise ballet
Their living room is a bowling alley
Their bedroom is full of conducted tours.
Their radio is louder than yours,
They celebrate week-ends all the week.
When they take a shower, your ceilings leak.
They try to get their parties to mix
By supplying their guests with Pogo sticks,
And when their fun at last abates,
They go to the bathroom on roller skates.
I might love the people upstairs more
If only they lived on another floor.
Valerie G. 2 years ago (edited)
yet another reason to love Ogden Nash. My favourite of Ogden Nash is: THE DUCK by Ogden Nash Behold the duck. It does not cluck. A cluck it lacks. It quacks. It is specially fond Of a puddle or pond. When it dines or sups, It bottoms ups.
#4
"Live Without" by Owen Meredith
We may live without poetry, music and art;
We may live without conscience, and live without heart;
We may live without friends, we may live without books;
But civilized man cannot live without cooks.
He may live without books—what is knowledge but grieving?
He may live without hope—what is hope but deceiving?
He may live without love—what is passion but pining?
But where is the man that can live without dining.
#5
"Home Alone" by Innarenko
My family’s gone; there’s no one home.
It’s only me who’s home alone.
I shouldn't hear a single squeak.
There shouldn't even be a creak,
So what’s that thumping that I hear?
It must mean one thing: death is near.
“You’re an adult, you’ll be just fine.”
I tell myself as I dial “nine”...
Was that a knock upon the door?
My heart beats faster than before
I know it's closed; I’ve checked the lock.
At least my killer knows to knock?
I cannot sleep, though I’m in bed.
I've made amends with God instead.
If He decides that it’s my time,
Then this will be my very last rhyme.
I hear a bang and then a break.
My head shoots up; there’s no mistake!
I turn my music volume high
So I won't hear the way I die.
I run upstairs, desk lamp in hand.
Over my head, ready to land,
And right before it did just that.
I remembered—I have a cat.
Valerie G. 2 years ago
and that is why there is no such thing as a "flat earth", the cat's would have knocked everything off the edge.
#6
"The Perfect Friend" by Shannen Wrass
Today I found a friend
who knew everything I felt
she knew my weakness
and the problems I've been dealt.
She understood my wonders
and listened to my dreams,
she listened to how I felt about life and love
and knew what it all means.
Not once did she interrupt me
or tell me I was wrong
she understood what I was going through
and promised she'd stay long.
I reached out to this friend,
to show her that I care
to pull her close and let her know
how much I need her there.
I went to hold her hand
to pull her a bit nearer
and I realized this perfect friend I found
was nothing but a mirror.
#7
"This Is Just To Say" by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
#8
"Peas & Honey"
I eat my peas with honey.
I’ve done it all my life.
It makes the peas taste funny.
But it keeps them on the knife!
#9
"Missing" by Anne Scott
I’ve hunted near, I’ve hunted far
I even looked inside my car.
I’ve lost my glasses, I’m in need,
To have them now so I can read.
I loudly swear and I curse
Did I leave them in my purse?
Are they behind the sofa, under the bed?
Oh there they are—on my head!
#10
"Yes! No!" by Joanna Fuchs
My turn signal wasn’t working,
So I asked for help from a friend.
“Stand behind the car,” I said.
“Let’s get this problem to end.”
“When I turn the signal on,
If it’s working, let me know.”
I hit the blinker and then I heard:
“Yes! No! Yes! No! Yes! No!”
#11
"Funny Young Fellow"
A funny young fellow named Perkins
Was terribly fond of small gherkins.
One day after tea
He ate ninety three
And pickled his internal workings.
#12
"Rain" by Shel Silverstein
I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.
I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.
#13
"The Elephant"
An elephant slept in his bunk,
And in slumber his chest rose and sunk.
But he snored — how he snored!
All the other beasts roared,
So his wife tied a knot in his trunk.
#14
"My Doggy Ate My Essay" by Darren Sardelli
My doggy ate my essay.
He picked up all my mail.
He cleaned my dirty closet
and dusted with his tail.
He straightened out my posters
and swept my wooden floor.
My parents almost fainted
when he fixed my bedroom door.
I did not try to stop him.
He made my windows shine.
My room looked like a palace,
and my dresser smelled like pine.
He fluffed up every pillow.
He folded all my clothes.
He even cleaned my fish tank
with a toothbrush and a hose.
I thought it was amazing
to see him use a broom.
I'm glad he ate my essay
on "How to Clean My Room."
#15
"Toilet Strategy" by Joanna Fuchs
A little boy sat on the toilet;
He was in there way too long.
His mom came in to check;
She thought something was wrong.
He's sit and sigh, sit and sigh,
Then he'd slap the top of his head.
"Why do you do that?" his mother asked.
"Works for ketchup," he said.
#16
"Too Careful" by Joanna Fuchs
I don't believe in taking excess risks,
But a person can be excessively careful, too.
A friend of mine checks every detail twice;
He's the most meticulous man I ever knew.
We went to the copy store the other day;
I thought we'd be a few minutes, and then be done.
But he counted all his copies several times,
And then proceeded to proofread every one!
#17
"Why"
Why is it that most people want
The Front seat in the bus,
The Back seat in church and
The Middle of the road?
#18
"Mr. Grumpledump’s Song" by Shel Silverstein
Everything’s wrong,
Days are too long,
Sunshine’s too hot,
Wind is too strong.
Clouds are too fluffy,
Grass is too green,
Ground is too dusty,
Sheets are too clean.
Stars are too twinkly,
Moon is too high,
Water’s too drippy,
Sand is too dry.
Rocks are too heavy,
Feathers too light,
Kids are too noisy,
Shoes are too tight.
Folks are too happy,
Singin’ their songs.
Why can’t they see it?
Everything’s wrong!
#19
"My One-Eyed Love" by Andrew Jefferson
I’ve fallen in love—I don't know why
I’ve fallen in love with a girl with one eye.
I knew from the start. It was plain to see
That this wonderful girl had an eye out for me
She’s charming and witty and jolly and jocular
Not what you’d expect from a girl who’s monocular.
Of eyes—at the moment—she hasn’t full quota
But that doesn’t change things for me one iota.
It must be quite difficult if you’re bereft.
If your left eye is gone and your right eye is left.
But she’s made up her mind. She’s made her decision.
She can see it quite clearly in 10/20 vision.
She’ll not leave me waiting, not left in the lurch
If she looks slightly sideways she’ll see me in church.
I’ll marry my true love who’s gentle and kind.
And thus prove to everyone that loves not quite blind.
#20
"I Ate a Chili Pepper" by Barbara Vance
I ate a chili pepper
One a lunch-time dare;
Sandy said I’d burn my mouth,
But I didn’t care.
I ate that chili pepper—
Left not a seed to waste—
And won that truly silly bet,
But lost my sense of taste.
#21
"The Experiment" by Joanna Fuchs
A curious lad from Dover
Crossed poison ivy with a four-leaf clover.
This young man was struck
With a rash of good luck,
Before his experiment was over.
#22
"Never Live"
There was a very cautious man
Who never laughed or played
He never risked, he never tried,
He never sang or prayed.
And when he on day passed away,
His insurance was denied,
For since he never really lived,
They claimed he never really died.
#23
"Clowns" by Wilhelmina Stitch
Chalk-white faces, spangled gowns,
Airs and graces, capering clowns!
Noses painted (reds and browns);
Look! they've fainted; foolish clowns!
East and west, cities, towns, clap with zest circus clowns.
Speak no word - verbs or nouns.
Quite absurd, much-loved clowns.
What a fall! Smiles, no frowns.
Best of all- these agile clowns.
Daddy roars, so does mother.
That clown scores, smacks his brother.
Life must bring ups and downs.
In life's ring let's be clowns!
Learn their way to make folk smile;
Dullest day, hardest mile.
In life's ring let's be clowns;
Laugh and sing at ups and downs!
#24
"We Wear the Mask" by Paul Laurence Dunbar
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
#25
"Funny Thoughts" by Nixon Waterman
It is bad to have an empty purse,
But an empty head is a whole lot worse.
Shut your mouth, and open your eyes,
And you're sure to learn something to make you wise.
#26
"The Purple Cow" by Gelett Burgess
I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one.
#27
"Have You Ever Seen"
Have you ever seen a sheet on a river bed?
Or a single hair from a hammer’s head?
Has the foot of a mountain any toes?
And is there a pair of garden hose?
Does the needle ever wink its eye?
Why doesn’t the wing of a building fly?
Can you tickle the ribs of a parasol?
Or open the trunk of a tree at all?
Are the teeth of a rake ever going to bite?
Have the hands of a clock any left or right?
Can the garden plot be deep and dark?
And what is the sound of the birch’s bark?
#28
"The Table and the Chair" by Edward Lear
I
Said the Table to the Chair,
'You can hardly be aware,
'How I suffer from the heat,
'And from chilblains on my feet!
'If we took a little walk,
'We might have a little talk!
'Pray let us take the air!'
Said the Table to the Chair.
II
Said the Chair unto the Table,
'Now you know we are not able!
'How foolishly you talk,
'When you know we cannot walk!'
Said the Table, with a sigh,
'It can do no harm to try,
'I've as many legs as you,
'Why can't we walk on two?'
III
So they both went slowly down,
And walked about the town
With a cheerful bumpy sound,
As they toddled round and round.
And everybody cried,
As they hastened to their side,
'See! the Table and the Chair
'Have come out to take the air!'
IV
But in going down an alley,
To a castle in a valley,
They completely lost their way,
And wandered all the day,
Till, to see them safely back,
They paid a Ducky-quack,
And a Beetle, and a Mouse,
Who took them to their house.
V
Then they whispered to each other,
'O delightful little brother!
'What a lovely walk we've taken!
'Let us dine on Beans and Bacon!'
So the Ducky, and the leetle
Browny-Mousy and the Beetle
Dined, and danced upon their heads
Till they toddled to their beds.
#29
"For The Foxes" by Charles Bukowski
Don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.
be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain
who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.
juggling mates
and
attitudes
their
confusion is
constant
and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.
beware of them:
one of their
key words is
'love.'
and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God
for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.
don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone
for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.
I am a dog walking
backwards
I am a broken
banjo
I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio
I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.
put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.
#30
"How doth the little crocodile..." by Lewis Carroll
How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!
#31
"There Once Was A Man From Nantucket"
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who kept all of his cash in a bucket.
But his daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man
And as for the bucket, Nan took it.
PattyK 2 years ago
Paw followed the pair to Pawtucket (The man and the girl with the bucket). He said to the man, “You’re welcome to Nan,” But as for the bucket, Pawtucket. The pair followed paw to Manhasset, Where he still had the cash as an asset; And Nan and the man Took the bucket and ran. And as for the bucket, Manhasset.
#32
"Some Men" by Will Carleton
Some men were born for great things,
Some were born for small.
Some, it is not recorded
Why they were born at all.
#33
"If You Feel Cold"
If you feel cold
I can warm you up
If you are sad
I can cheer you up
If you are hungry
We can share an egg cup
But if you need money
Sorry, I have to shut up.
#34
"Do You Carrot All for Me?"
Do you carrot all for me?
My heart beets for you,
With your turnip nose
And your radish face,
You are a peach.
If we cantaloupe,
Lettuce marry:
Weed make a swell pear.
#35
"Tinkle, Tinkle, Little Car" by Cecilia L. Goodbody
Tinkle, Tinkle little car
How I wonder what you are.
Leaking oil every day
Having it your own way.
Going up hills real slow
I don't want you any mo'.
Tinkle, Tinkle little car
Boy, what a lemon you are.
#36
"Granny" by Spike Milligan
Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)
All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)
It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny—
But most of all, it blew on Granny!
#37
"Dessert Last" by Julie Hebert
Tell me what you think,
About dessert coming last.
Once we've eaten such a big course,
There's no room for dessert’s extra mass.
Dessert is the favourite of all meals,
The one we all look forward to.
So yummy and mouth watering,
I can't bear to miss out on this too.
In life there are things that can't be done,
Or have to be put on hold.
Sometimes dessert is just like that,
Disappointment and feeling uncontrolled.
But it doesn't have to be like that.
Missing out on something good is the worst.
We all know life is too short,
So let's eat our dessert first!
Valerie G. 2 years ago
at dinners out with my group there was an older lady in the bunch who always ate her dessert first.
#38
"Belly Button Magic" by Richard Leavesley
Oh my beloved belly button.
The squidgy ring in my midriff mutton.
Your mystery is such tricky stuff:
Why are you so full of fluff?
#39
"Why Man is Bald" by David V. Bush
Why man is bald has baffled him
For ages—many years—
And it has caused much querying
And sighs, even to tears.
Why he is bald? I know the why
And later will relate
The reason he is minus hair
On top of his bald pate.
It’s not this here heredity,
Nor dandruff nor disease,
Because a hat band is too tight;
Tight scalp—no none of these.
A man is bald, I know the why,
And here I will declare,
He’s bald because, he’s bald because,
He’s minus of some hair.
Valerie G. 2 years ago
I once got on an elevator with a bald co-worker, one young man looked at him and said he would get the next elevator in case "it was catchy". My friend said "we are all born with the same amount of hormones, if you want to use yours growing hair, go ahead".
#40
"Not Smart Enough For a Smart Phone" by Nandita Shailesh Shanbhag
My son gifted me a phone, said it was very smart.
He said it would ease my life, that it was a new start.
Connect to internet, search for all you want to know.
No need for TV; on it, watch your favorite show.
It’s time to throw out your ancient alarm clock.
You can shop for anything, from a ship to a sock.
You can find every address with the hi-tech map.
You can get rid of the wrinkles on your photo with an app.
You can pay your bills online with a single click.
You can order a meal, with just a finger-flick.
Now you can chat and tweet from your armchair.
Photos of your grandkids you can see and share.
You have the world at your fingertips now, said he,
But I struggle to make a simple call, Stupid Old Me!
I wanted to send a message to my oldest friend.
For dear, I typed dead and then pressed send.
I tried to watch a movie, but it made my eyes spin.
How to see those mini-figures on a tiny screen.
I tried to use the calculator; it took me an hour to find.
I could have added up the numbers faster in my mind.
Things get opened and switched on without my will.
I break into a sweat at the thought of my data bill.
Stop sending me “Good day texts” for goodness sake.
Those pings and rings give me a blasting headache.
So, for others, a smart phone may be trendy and hot.
For me, it’s useless; as it’s smart, but I am not.
#41
"Golf Chat" by Joanna Fuchs
Three old men on the golf course,
(Each had trouble hearing well)
Were playing a round on a breezy day,
When one blew over and fell.
"Windy, isn't it?" said one of them,
While helping the other to rise.
"No, it's Thursday," said the second man.
And they walked off to exercise.
The third man had listened intently;
Now he chimed in, with good cheer;
As he followed the others, he called out,
"So am I. Let's have a beer!"
#42
"Too Many Questions" by Joanna Fuchs
“Every time I ask you something,”
The upset husband said,
“You answer with another question,”
He said, scratching his head.
“Could you please stop it,” he queried,
Continuing the chat.
She smiled at him and replied:
“Do I really do that?”
#43
"Consider the Hammer"
Consider the hammer -
It keeps its head.
It doesn't fly off the handle.
It keeps pounding away.
It finds the point, then drives it home.
It looks at the other side, too,
and thus often clinches the matter.
It makes mistakes, but when it does, it starts all over.
It is the only knocker in the world
That does any good.
#44
"Humble and Grumble" by Eldred Herbert
Humble and Grumble were identical twins,
And Humble was ever so meek;
Grumble did nothing but grumble all day,
Some may even call him a freak.
Humble was happy and everyone's friend,
Grumble was jealous of course;
Humble was happy to follow the Lord,
But Grumble, an immoral source.
Humble was never seen wearing a frown,
And Grumble, ne'er seen with a smile;
Humble won friends by just being himself,
But, Grumble, he won them by guile.
So Grumble, please follow Humble, your twin,
And Humble, don't grumble, I pray,
For grumble will make you like Grumble, your twin,
Please Grumble, be humble today.
#45
"Take The Time"
Who learns and learns,
Nor acts on what he knows,
Is one who ploughs and ploughs,
But never takes the time to sow.
They say talk is cheap
It is easy on the street
But to succeed
You must do more than read.
Learn, and read but more important so
Is taking action and then you'll see success flow!
#46
"How and When"
We are often greatly bothered
By two fussy little men,
Who sometimes block our pathway -
Their names are How and When.
If we have a task or duty
Which we can put off a while,
And we do not go and do it -
You should see those two rogues smile!
But there is a way to beat them,
And I will tell you how:
If you have a task or duty,
Do it well, and do it now.
#47
"Two Frogs"
Two frogs fell into a bucket of cream
And must paddle to keep afloat;
But one soon tired and sank to rest
With a gurgling sigh in his throat.
The other paddled away all night,
And not a croak did he utter,
And with the coming of morning light
He rode on an island of butter.
The flies came thick to his island home
And made him a breakfast snappy.
The milkmaid shrieked and upset the pail,
And froggy hopped away happy.
We can all find a moral in this rhyme,
And should hasten at once to apply:
Success will come in the most difficult time
If we paddle and never say die!
#48
"Eating Habits" by Alan Balter
Tomato sauce I'm at a loss
I simply don't know why
Hardly ever, really never
Spots a worn out tie
But wear a new one, a costly blue one
A fancy silken job
If you're like me; I guarantee
With gravy, you're a slob
Spicy mustard, chocolate custard
Everybody knows
Never spill and never will
When you're wearing your old clothes
But brand new pants don't have a chance
Hanging on your hips
Melted cheese, with shocking ease
Drips right off your lips
So let's suppose food really knows
When you're dressed up fancy
I'd still conclude that eating nude
Would be very chancy.
#49
"My Computer" by Burmah M. Teague
My computer has a language
That is foreign to me
It speaks of RAM and Gigabytes
And what could ROM be!
I don't understand the Windows
My computer says are there
Nor the Gem Clip at the side of my page
Wth eyes that blink and stare!
I don't unerstand the cures
That maintenance wizards do
It's called defragmenter, span disk,
And virus cleaning too!
Yet, computer and I work hand and eye
With a mouse to translate
The tasks that I want it to do
While it points out my mistakes!
#50
"Please Mrs Butler" by Allan Ahlberg
Please Mrs. Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps copying my work, Miss.
What shall I do?
Go and sit in the hall, dear.
Go and sit in the sink.
Take your books on the roof, my lamb.
Do whatever you think.
Please Mrs. Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps taking my rubber, Miss.
What shall I do?
Keep it in your hand, dear.
Hide it up your vest.
Swallow it if you like, my love.
Do what you think best.
Please Mrs. Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps calling me rude names, Miss.
What shall I do?
Lock yourself in the cupboard, dear.
Run away to sea.
Do whatever you can, my flower.
But don't ask me!
#51
"The Dragon of Grindly Grun" by Shel Silverstein
I'm the Dragon of Grindly Grun,
I breathe fire as hot as the sun.
When a knight comes to fight
I just toast him on sight,
Like a hot crispy cinnamon bun.
When I see a fair damsel go by,
I just sigh a fiery sigh,
And she'd baked like a 'tater-
I think of her later
With a romantic tear in my eye.
I'm the Dragon of Grindly Grun,
But my lunches aren't very much fun,
For I like my damsels medium rare,
and they always come out well done.
#52
"If I Were King" by A. A. Milne
I often wish I were a King,
And then I could do anything.
If only I were King of Spain,
I'd take my hat off in the rain.
If only I were King of France,
I wouldn't brush my hair for aunts.
I think, if I were King of Greece,
I'd push things off the mantelpiece.
If I were King of Norroway,
I'd ask an elephant to stay.
If I were King of Babylon,
I'd leave my button gloves undone.
If I were King of Timbuctoo,
I'd think of lovely things to do.
If I were King of anything,
I'd tell the soldiers, "I'm the King!"
#53
"Hustle"
All things come to him who waits
But that is merely stating
One feature of the case — you've got
To hustle while you're waiting.
#54
"Mr. Tongue"
My friend, Mr. Tongue
He lives in my mouth,
He's red as a rose,
And warm as the South.
He has not a foot,
But how quickly he goes,
My little friend Tongue,
As red as a rose.
#55
"My Fairy" by Lewis Carroll
I have a fairy by my side
Which says I must not sleep,
When once in pain I loudly cried
It said “You must not weep”
If, full of mirth, I smile and grin,
It says “You must not laugh”
When once I wished to drink some gin
It said “You must not quaff”.
When once a meal I wished to taste
It said “You must not bite”
When to the wars I went in haste
It said “You must not fight”.
“What may I do?” at length I cried,
Tired of the painful task.
The fairy quietly replied,
And said “You must not ask”.
Moral: “You mustn’t.”
#56
"My Shadow" by Robert Louis Stevenson
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
#57
"Monosyllabics" by Laura E. Richards
The black cat sat
In the fat man’s hat;
“Oh, dear!” the fat man said.
“May the great gray bat
Catch the bad black cat
Who has left me no hat
For my head!”
The big brown bear
Tried to curl his hair
To go to the Fair so gay.
But he looked such a fright
That his aunt took flight,
And he cried till night, they say.
A pale pink pig,
In a large blond wig,
Danced a wild, wild jig
On the lea;
But a rude old goat,
In a sky-blue coat,
Said, “You’re nought but a shoat, tee hee!”
A poor old King
Sold his gay gold ring
For to buy his old wife some cream;
But the cat lapped it up
With a sip and a sup,
And his tears ran down in a stream.
A large red cow
Tried to make a bow,
But did not know how,
They say.
For her legs got mixed,
And her horns got fixed,
And her tail would get
In her way.
A boy named Sam
Had a fat pet ram,
And gave him some jam
For his tea;
But the fat pet ram
Tried to butt poor Sam,
Till he had to turn
And flee.
A girl named Jane
Had a sad, bad pain
In the place where she wore
Her belt;
She mopped and she mowed,
And she screamed aloud,
Just to show the crowd
How she felt.
A sad, thin ape
Bought some wide white tape
To trim a new cape
For his niece;
But a bold buff calf,
With a loud, rude laugh,
Bit off one whole half
For his geese.
A pert, proud hen
Laid an egg, and then
Said “Cluck!” and “cluck!” and
“cluck!”
Said the cock, “Had I known
You would take that tone,
I would have wooed none
But a duck!”
#58
"Perils of Thinking"
A centipede was happy quite,
Until a frog in fun
Said, “Pray, which leg comes after which?”
This raised her mind to such a pitch,
She lay distracted in the ditch
Considering how to run.
#59
"Mr. Nobody"
I know a funny little man,
As quiet as a mouse,
Who does the mischief that is done
In everybody’s house!
There’s no one ever sees his face,
And yet we all agree
That every plate we break was cracked
By Mr. Nobody.
‘Tis he who always tears out books,
Who leaves the door ajar,
He pulls the buttons from our shirts,
And scatters pins afar;
That squeaking door will always squeak,
For prithee, don’t you see,
We leave the oiling to be done
By Mr. Nobody.
The finger marks upon the door
By none of us are made;
We never leave the blinds unclosed,
To let the curtains fade.
The ink we never spill; the boots
That lying round you see
Are not our boots,—they all belong
To Mr. Nobody.
#60
"Eletelephony" by Laura E. Richards
Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant—
No! No! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone—
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I’ve got it right.)
Howe’er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee—
(I fear I’d better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)
#61
"Messy Room" by Shel Silverstein
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or—
Huh? You say it’s mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!
#62
"Doggy Heaven" by Larry Huggins
All doggies go to heaven (or so I’ve been told).
They run and play along the streets of Gold.
Why is heaven such a doggie-delight?
Why, because there’s not a single cat in sight!
#63
"The Life of a Cupcake" by Shelby Greer
They put me in the oven to bake.
Me, a deprived and miserable cake.
Feeling the heat, I started to bubble.
Watching the others, I knew I was in trouble.
They opened the door and I started my life.
Frosting me with a silver knife,
Decorating me with candy jewels.
The rest of my batch looked like fools.
Lifting me up, she took off my wrapper.
Feeling the breeze, I wanted to slap her.
Opening her mouth with shiny teeth inside,
This was the day this cupcake died.
#64
"A Warning on Spontaneous Combustion" by Stuart McLean
O whisky is the king of drinks,
Renowned the world o’er,
But here’s a word o’ caution,
Tae think of when ye pour.
There’s a certain combination,
That tastes so very good,
But when it hits your tummy,
And mixes with your food.
That’s when the trouble starts,
For yer pleasure hits overload,
And half an hour later,
Ye’ll suddenly explode.
So there ye are in the pub,
Completely engulfed in flames,
And yer good wife’s dashing home,
Tae lodge insurance claims.
Well now that I have told ye,
Don’t say ye’ve no’ been warned,
So don’t try it oot yersel’,
Or ye’ll soon be bein’ mourned.
Francine Govan 2 years ago
RIP Stuart McLean, Canada's beloved storyteller, author, and radio broadcaster - you are missed.
#65
"Daddy Fell into the Pond" by Alfred Noyes
Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey.
We had nothing to do and nothing to say.
We were nearing the end of a dismal day,
And then there seemed to be nothing beyond,
Then
Daddy fell into the pond!
And everyone's face grew merry and bright,
And Timothy danced for sheer delight.
"Give me the camera, quick, oh quick!
He's crawling out of the duckweed!" Click!
Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee,
And doubled up, shaking silently,
And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft,
And it sounded as if the old drake laughed.
Oh, there wasn't a thing that didn't respond
When
Daddy Fell into the pond!
#66
"It's all I have to bring today" by Emily Dickinson
It's all I have to bring today –
This, and my heart beside –
This, and my heart, and all the fields –
And all the meadows wide –
Be sure you count – should I forget
Some one the sum could tell –
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.
#67
"Mother Doesn't Want a Dog" by Judith Viorst
Mother doesn't want a dog.
Mother says they smell,
And never sit when you say sit,
Or even when you yell.
When you come home late at night
And there is ice and snow,
You have to go back ou because
The dumb dog has to go.
Mother doesn't wat a dog.
Mother says they shed,
And always let the strangers in
And bark at friends instead
They do disgraceful things on rugs,
And track mud on the floor,
And flop upon your bed at night
And snore their doggy snore.
Mother doesn't want a dog.
She's making a mistake.
Because, more than a dog, I think
She will not want this snake.
#68
"The Waste Land: Five Limericks" by Wendy Cope
I
In April one seldom feels cheerful;
Dry stones, sun and dust make me fearful;
Clairvoyantes distress me,
Commuters depress me--
Met Stetson and gave him an earful.
II
She sat on a mighty fine chair,
Sparks flew as she tidied her hair;
She asks many questions,
I make few suggestions--
Bad as Albert and Lil--what a pair!
III
The Thames runs, bones rattle, rats creep;
Tiresias fancies a peep--
A typist is laid,
A record is played--
Wei la la. After this it gets deep.
IV
A Phoenician named Phlebas forgot
About birds and his business--the lot,
Which is no surprise,
Since he'd met his demise
And been left in the ocean to rot.
V
No water. Dry rocks and dry throats,
Then thunder, a shower of quotes
From the Sanskrit and Dante.
Da. Damyata. Shantih.
I hope you'll make sense of the notes.
#69
"Skin Stealer" by Shel Silverstein
This evening I unzipped my skin
And carefully unscrewed my head,
Exactly as I always do
When I prepare myself for bed.
And while I slept a coo-coo came
As naked as could be
And put on the skin
And screwed on the head
That once belonged to me.
Now wearing my feet
He runs through the street
In a most disgraceful way.
Doin' things and sayin' things
I'd never do or say,
Ticklin' the children
And kickin' the men
And Dancin' the ladies away.
So if he makes your bright eyes cry
Or makes your poor head spin,
That scoundrel you see
Is not really me
He's the coo-coo
Who's wearing my skin.
#70
"Say Something Good"
Pick out the folks you like the least and watch 'em for a while;
They never waste a kindly word, they never waste a smile;
They criticise their fellow men at every chance they get.
They never found a human just to suit their fancy yet.
From them I guess you'd learn some things, if they were pointed out -
Some things what every one of us should know a lot about.
When some one "knocks" a brother, pass around the loving cup -
Say something good about him even if you have to make it up.
#71
"Sweets!" by Julie Hebert
There is one thing that makes me happy,
And this I always indulge.
A big piece of cake and yummy cookies too,
Now watch as my stomach will bulge!
Then there are pies and pastries to savor,
Can't forget the hot cross buns.
I eat and I eat until they are gone,
This often ends up in the runs!
Now, will this addiction to sweets ever leave?
I often wonder about this question.
My health would probably hope for an answer,
My mouth is ready for the next session!
I realize there will come a day,
When sweets will not be allowed in my diet.
But until that day presents itself,
My stomach will not keep quiet!
#72
"Wild Flowers"
Of what are you afraid, my child?
Inquired the kindly teacher.
"Oh, sir! the flowers, they are wild,"
Replied the timid creature.
#73
"The Scholar’s Wife" by John Dryden
To a deep scholar said his wife:
“Would that I were a book, my life!
On me, then, you would sometimes look.
But I should wish to be the book
That you would mostly wish to see.
Then say, what volume should I be?”
“An Almanack,” said he, “my dear;
You know we change them every year.”
#74
"A Snow Man"
Oh, the beautiful snow!
We’re all in a glow—
Nell, Dolly, and Willie, and Dan;
For the primest of fun,
When all’s said and done,
Is just making a big snow man.
Two stones for his eyes
Look quite owlishly wise,
A hard pinch of snow for his nose;
Then a mouth that’s as big
As the snout of a pig,
And he’ll want an old pipe, I suppose.
Then the snow man is done,
And to-morrow what fun
To make piles of snow cannon all day,
And to pelt him with balls
Till he totters and falls,
And a thaw comes and melts him away.
#75
"The Cat Metamorphosed Into a Woman" by Jean de la Fontaine
A bachelor caress'd his cat,
A darling, fair, and delicate;
So deep in love, he thought her mew
The sweetest voice he ever knew.
By prayers, and tears, and magic art,
The man got Fate to take his part;
And, lo! one morning at his side
His cat, transform'd, became his bride.
In wedded state our man was seen
The fool in courtship he had been.
No lover e'er was so bewitch'd
By any maiden's charms
As was this husband, so enrich'd
By hers within his arms.
He praised her beauties, this and that,
And saw there nothing of the cat.
In short, by passion's aid, he
Thought her a perfect lady.
'Twas night: some carpet-gnawing mice
Disturb'd the nuptial joys.
Excited by the noise,
The bride sprang at them in a trice;
The mice were scared and fled.
The bride, scarce in her bed,
The gnawing heard, and sprang again, -
And this time not in vain,
For, in this novel form array'd,
Of her the mice were less afraid.
Through life she loved this mousing course,
So great is stubborn nature's force.
In mockery of change, the old
Will keep their youthful bent.
When once the cloth has got its fold,
The smelling-pot its scent,
In vain your efforts and your care
To make them other than they are.
To work reform, do what you will,
Old habit will be habit still.
Nor fork nor strap can mend its manners,
Nor cudgel-blows beat down its banners.
Secure the doors against the renter,
And through the windows it will enter.
#76
"The Attraction of Levitation" by H. G. Paine
“Oh, dear!” said little Johnny Frost,
“Sleds are such different things!
When down the hill you swiftly coast
You’d think that they had wings;
“But when uphill you slowly climb,
And have to drag your sled,
It feels so heavy that you’d think
‘Twas really made of lead.
“And all because an Englishman,
Sir Isaac Newton named,
Invented gravitation, and
Became unduly famed;
“While if he had reversed his law,
So folks uphill could coast,
It seems to me he would have had
A better claim to boast.
“Then coasting would all pleasure be;
To slide up would be slick!
And dragging sleds downhill would be
An awful easy trick!”
#77
"The Camel’s Complaint" by Charles E. Carryl
Canary-birds feed on sugar and seed,
Parrots have crackers to crunch;
And, as for the poodles, they tell me the noodles
Have chickens and cream for their lunch.
But there’s never a question
About MY digestion—
Anything does for me!
Cats, you’re aware, can repose in a chair,
Chickens can roost upon rails;
Puppies are able to sleep in a stable,
And oysters can slumber in pails.
But no one supposes
A poor Camel dozes—
Any place does for me!
Lambs are inclosed where it’s never exposed,
Coops are constructed for hens;
Kittens are treated to houses well heated,
And pigs are protected by pens.
But a Camel comes handy
Wherever it’s sandy—
Anywhere does for me!
People would laugh if you rode a giraffe,
Or mounted the back of an ox;
It’s nobody’s habit to ride on a rabbit,
Or try to bestraddle a fox.
But as for a Camel, he’s
Ridden by families—
Any load does for me!
“A snake is as round as a hole in the ground,
And weasels are wavy and sleek;
And no alligator could ever be straighter
Than lizards that live in a creek.
But a Camel’s all lumpy
And bumpy and humpy—
Any shape does for me!”
#78
"Our Imperfect Dog" by Cynthia C. Naspinksi
We love our dog with all our hearts,
But not so much her stinky farts.
Her doggy breath is less than fresh,
Yet we hug her nonetheless.
From barking she will not refrain.
The house and yard are her domain.
Park on the street or walk on past,
And you will likely cop a blast.
Meter readers, couriers,
Serve to make her furious.
Possums, lizards, neighbour’s cat,
Will not be shown the welcome mat.
In the name of crime prevention,
Airspace gets the same attention.
We feel safe, it must be said,
From birds that dare fly overhead.
She wages war with the lawn mower,
Outdoor sweeper and leaf blower.
And switching on the vacuum cleaner
Won't bring out her best demeanour.
This causes some embarrassment,
This doggy form of harassment,
But she does provide protection,
And for that we feel affection.
Once introductions make the rounds,
Her friendliness, it knows no bounds.
Though not all guests are fully rapt
With thirty kilos on their lap.
Should you leave your nice warm chair,
On your return you’ll find her there.
And when she’s urged to please vacate,
She'll turn into a limp, dead weight.
To baths she has a strong aversion,
Desperate to avoid immersion.
Yet she’ll display her dive technique
In any muddy pond or creek!
We give her scratches, make her smile.
Give an inch, she'll take a mile.
Stop and she’ll demand still more,
Prodding you with paw and claw.
“She’s got character!” we all say.
At times it’s just a nicer way
Of saying she's our problem child,
Kinda crazy, kinda wild.
For all her faults we love her dearly
And in turn she loves us clearly.
She's our funny, gorgeous girl.
We wouldn't trade for all the world.
#79
"My Feet" by Gelett Burgess
My feet, they haul me Round the House,
They Hoist me up the Stairs;
I only have to Steer them and
They Ride me Everywheres.
#80
"How to Paint A Wall" by Joanna Fuchs
While I went off to work one day,
She decided to paint the wall.
And when I came back home that night,
She was curled into a ball.
Her eyes were closed, she was breathing hard,
Her hair was very wet.
From her head to the tips of her pretty toes,
She was covered all in sweat.
She was wrapped in a jacket made of down,
With a fur coat on top of that.
The wall was glowing with new, fresh paint;
On the floor, the paint can sat.
"Sweetheart!" I cried, with a worried look,
"Are you all right, my dear?"
She lazily opened her lovely eyes,
And smiled from ear to ear.
"I knew I could do it," she said with a grin;
"I followed the paint can notes.
It clearly said 'For best results,
Be sure to put on two coats.'"
#81
"A Funny World" by Douglas Malloch
It's a funny world in a lot of ways
But the funniest things you see,
When you upward look, when you outward gaze,
Aren't funny at all to me;
And the funny thing that you think, egad,
And the funnier things you do,
Though I think them funny, I think them mad,
Aren't funny at all to you.
It's a funny thing, but a funny style
There is someone around to wear.
It's a funny world, and it makes us smile,
For the funniest folk are there.
Though we do not care for a vulgar show,
And we think it is dull and flat,
There is always a place for the folk to go
Who would go to a place like that.
It's a funny world, it's an awful joke,
And the funniest thought it brings:
There are funny things for the funny folk,
And the folk for the funny things,
It's a funny world, so it seems to me,
And your creed is a funny creed -
But a world alike, all alike, would be,
Be a funny old world indeed.
#82
"Funny Looking" by Alan Balter
At the hospital on the day of my birth
I’m told I looked strange for what it’s worth
Doc didn’t whack my rump like he did to others
Nope, I looked so funny he slapped my mother
So yeah, I wasn’t a handsome guy
Mom said my face could make onions cry
Dad took me to the zoo, and a girl made a crack
“How nice of that man to bring the monkey back”
Once I got sick with the Asian flu
I needed some medicine like other kids do
The doctor was hardly a humanitarian
When he suggested I visit a veterinarian
Being quite truthful; indeed brutally frank
They turn off the camera when I go to a bank
The first time I visited a psychiatrist—Ouch!
She insisted I lie face down on the couch
But, I made it to college and earned a bachelor’s degree
Then completed a Master’s and Ph.D
I’m the owner and president of a large company
Where lots of good looking people work for me
So if you don’t like the image you see in your mirror
Here’s a message that couldn’t be any clearer
Don’t worry young people; just hit the books
‘Cause what you know gets you further than how you look.
#83
"The Frog" by Christina Rossetti
Contemptuous of his home beyond
The village and the village pond,
A large-souled Frog who spurned each byeway,
Hopped along the imperial highway.
Nor grunting pig nor barking dog
Could disconcert so great a frog.
The morning dew was lingering yet
His sides to cool, his tongue to wet;
The night dew when the night should come
A travelled frog would send him home.
Not so, alas! the wayside grass
Sees him no more: - not so, alas!
A broadwheeled waggon unawares
Ran him down, his joys, his cares.
From dying choke one feeble croak
The Frog's perpetual silence broke:
"Ye buoyant Frogs, ye great and small,
Even I am mortal after all.
My road to Fame turns out a wry way:
I perish on this hideous highway,-
Oh for my old familiar byeway!"
The choking Frog sobbed and was gone:
The waggoner strode whistling on.
Unconscious of the carnage done,
Whistling that waggoner strode on,
Whistling (it may have happened so)
"A Froggy would a-wooing go:"
A hypothetic frog trolled he
Obtuse to a reality.
O rich and poor, O great and small,
Such oversights beset us all:
The mangled frog abides incog,
The uninteresting actual frog;
The hypothetic frog alone
Is the one frog we dwell upon.
#84
"The Pig" by Roald Dahl
In England once there lived a big
And wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn't read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn't puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.
What was the reason for his birth?
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant brain went round and round.
Alas, no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, "By gum, I've got the answer!"
"They want my bacon slice by slice
"To sell at a tremendous price!
"They want my tender juicy chops
"To put in all the butcher's shops!
"They want my pork to make a roast
"And that's the part'll cost the most!
"They want my sausages in strings!
"They even want my chitterlings!
"The butcher's shop! The carving knife!
"That is the reason for my life!"
Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great piece of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar,
Bashes the farmer to the floor…
Now comes the rather grizzly bit
So let's not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
He ate him up from head to toe,
Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.
Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
"I had a fairly powerful hunch
"That he might have me for his lunch.
"And so, because I feared the worst,
"I thought I'd better eat him first."
#85
"Not I" by Robert Louis Stevenson
Some like drink
In a pint pot.
Some like to think.
Some not.
Strong Dutch cheese.
Old Kentucky Rye,
Some like these;
Not I.
Some like Poe,
And others like Scott;
Some like Mrs. Stowe,
Some not.
Some like to laugh.
Some like to cry.
Some like to chaff;
Not I.
#86
"The Compliment" by Eugene Field
Arrayed in snow-white pants and vest,
And other rainment fair to view,
I stood before my sweetheart Sue—
The charming creature I love best.
“Tell me and does my costume suit?”
I asked that apple of my eye—
And then the charmer made reply,
“Oh, yes, you do look awful cute!”
Although I frequently had heard
My sweetheart vent her pleasure so,
I must confess I did not know
The meaning of that favorite word.
But presently at window side
We stood and watched the passing throng,
And soon a donkey passed along
With ears like wings extended wide.
And gazing at the doleful brute
My sweetheart gave a merry cry—
I quote her language with a sigh—
“O Charlie, ain’t he awful cute?”
#87
"Phantasmagoria" by Lewis Carroll
One winter night, at half-past nine,
Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy,
I had come home, too late to dine,
And supper, with cigars and wine,
Was waiting in the study.
There was a strangeness in the room,
And Something white and wavy
Was standing near me in the gloom—
I took it for the carpet-broom
Left by that careless slavey.
But presently the Thing began
To shiver and to sneeze:
On which I said “Come, come, my man!
That’s a most inconsiderate plan.
Less noise there, if you please!”
“I’ve caught a cold,” the Thing replies,
“Out there upon the landing.”
I turned to look in some surprise,
And there, before my very eyes,
A little Ghost was standing!
He trembled when he caught my eye,
And got behind a chair.
“How came you here,” I said, “and why?
I never saw a thing so shy.
Come out! Don’t shiver there!”
He said “I’d gladly tell you how,
And also tell you why;
But” (here he gave a little bow)
“You’re in so bad a temper now,
You’d think it all a lie.
“And as to being in a fright,
Allow me to remark
That Ghosts have just as good a right
In every way, to fear the light,
As Men to fear the dark.”
“No plea,” said I, “can well excuse
Such cowardice in you:
For Ghosts can visit when they choose,
Whereas we Humans ca’n’t refuse
To grant the interview.”
He said “A flutter of alarm
Is not unnatural, is it?
I really feared you meant some harm:
But, now I see that you are calm,
Let me explain my visit.
“Houses are classed, I beg to state,
According to the number
Of Ghosts that they accommodate:
(The Tenant merely counts as weight,
With Coals and other lumber).
“This is a ‘one-ghost’ house, and you
When you arrived last summer,
May have remarked a Spectre who
Was doing all that Ghosts can do
To welcome the new-comer.
“In Villas this is always done—
However cheaply rented:
For, though of course there’s less of fun
When there is only room for one,
Ghosts have to be contented.
“That Spectre left you on the Third—
Since then you’ve not been haunted:
For, as he never sent us word,
’Twas quite by accident we heard
That any one was wanted.
“A Spectre has first choice, by right,
In filling up a vacancy;
Then Phantom, Goblin, Elf, and Sprite—
If all these fail them, they invite
The nicest Ghoul that they can see.
“The Spectres said the place was low,
And that you kept bad wine:
So, as a Phantom had to go,
And I was first, of course, you know,
I couldn’t well decline.”
“No doubt,” said I, “they settled who
Was fittest to be sent
Yet still to choose a brat like you,
To haunt a man of forty-two,
Was no great compliment!”
“I’m not so young, Sir,” he replied,
“As you might think. The fact is,
In caverns by the water-side,
And other places that I’ve tried,
I’ve had a lot of practice:
“But I have never taken yet
A strict domestic part,
And in my flurry I forget
The Five Good Rules of Etiquette
We have to know by heart.”
My sympathies were warming fast
Towards the little fellow:
He was so utterly aghast
At having found a Man at last,
And looked so scared and yellow.
“At least,” I said, “I’m glad to find
A Ghost is not a dumb thing!
But pray sit down: you’ll feel inclined
(If, like myself, you have not dined)
To take a snack of something:
“Though, certainly, you don’t appear
A thing to offer food to!
And then I shall be glad to hear—
If you will say them loud and clear—
The Rules that you allude to.”
“Thanks! You shall hear them by and by.
This is a piece of luck!”
“What may I offer you?” said I.
“Well, since you are so kind, I’ll try
A little bit of duck.
“One slice! And may I ask you for
Another drop of gravy?”
I sat and looked at him in awe,
For certainly I never saw
A thing so white and wavy.
And still he seemed to grow more
More vapoury, and wavier—
Seen in the dim and flickering light,
As he proceeded to recite
His “Maxims of Behaviour.”
#88
"The Bashful Earthquake" by Oliver Herford
The Earthquake rumbled
And mumbled
And grumbled;
And then he bumped,
And everything tumbled—
Bumpyty-thump!
Thumpyty-bump!—
Houses and palaces all in a lump!
“Oh, what a crash!
Oh, what a smash!
How could I ever be so rash?”
The Earthquake cried.
“What under the sun
Have I gone and done?
I never before was so mortified!”
Then away he fled,
And groaned as he sped:
“This comes of not looking before I tread.”
Out of the city along the road
He staggered, as under a heavy load,
Growing more weary with every league,
Till almost ready to faint with fatigue.
He came at last to a country lane
Bordering upon a field of grain;
And just at the spot where he paused to rest,
In a clump of wheat, hung a Dormouse nest.
The sun in the west was sinking red,
And the Dormouse had just turned into bed,
Dreaming as only a Dormouse can,
When all of a sudden his nest began
To quiver and shiver and tremble and shake.
Something was wrong, and no mistake!
In a minute the Dormouse was wide awake,
And, putting his head outside his nest,
Cried: “Who is it dares disturb my rest?”
His voice with rage was a husky squeak.
The Earthquake by now had become so weak
He’d scarcely strength enough to speak.
He even forgot the rules of grammar;
All he could do was to feebly stammer.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s me.
Please don’t be angry. I’ll try to be—”
No one will know what he meant to say,
For all at once he melted away.
The Dormouse, grumbling, went back to bed,
“Oh, bother the Bats!” was all he said.
#89
"The Stargazer"
A stargazer out late at night,
With eyes and thoughts turned both upright,
Tumbled by chance into a well
(A dismal story this to tell);
He roared and sobbed and roared again,
And cursed “The Bear” and “Charles’s Wain.”
His woeful cries a neighbor brought,
Less learned, but wiser far in thought:
“My friend,” quoth he, “you’re much misled,
With stars to trouble thus your head;
Since you with these misfortunes meet,
For want of looking to your feet.”
#90
"The Theoretic Turtle" by Amos Russel Wells
The theoretic turtle started out to see the toad;
He came to a stop at a liberty-pole in the middle of the road.
“Now how, in the name of the spouting whale,” the indignant turtle cried,
“Can I climb this perpendicular cliff, and get on the other side?
If I only could make a big balloon, I’d lightly over it fly;
Or a very long ladder might reach the top, though it does look fearfully high.
If a beaver were in my place, he’d gnaw a passage through with his teeth;
I can’t do that, but I can dig a tunnel and pass beneath.”
He was digging his tunnel, with might and main, when a dog looked down at the hole.
“The easiest way, my friend,” said he, “is to walk around the pole.”
#91
"Canis Major" by Robert Frost
The great Overdog
That heavenly beast
With a star in one eye
Gives a leap in the east.
He dances upright
All the way to the west
And never once drops
On his forefeet to rest.
I'm a poor underdog,
But to-night I will bark
With the great Overdog
That romps through the dark.
#92
"Cloony The Clown" by Shel Silverstein
I'll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown
Who worked in a circus that came through town.
His shoes were too big and his hat was too small,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes,
He had a green dog and a thousand balloons.
He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
And every time he did a trick,
Everyone felt a little sick.
And every time he told a joke,
Folks sighed as if their hearts were broke.
And every time he lost a shoe,
Everyone looked awfully blue.
And every time he stood on his head,
Everyone screamed, "Go back to bed!"
And every time he made a leap,
Everybody fell asleep.
And every time he ate his tie,
Everyone began to cry.
And Cloony could not make any money
Simply because he was not funny.
One day he said, "I'll tell this town
How it feels to be an unfunny clown."
And he told them all why he looked so sad,
And he told them all why he felt so bad.
He told of Pain and Rain and Cold,
He told of Darkness in his soul,
And after he finished his tale of woe,
Did everyone cry? Oh no, no, no,
They laughed until they shook the trees
With "Hah-Hah-Hahs" and "Hee-Hee-Hees."
They laughed with howls and yowls and shrieks,
They laughed all day, they laughed all week,
They laughed until they had a fit,
They laughed until their jackets split.
The laughter spread for miles around
To every city, every town,
Over mountains, 'cross the sea,
From Saint Tropez to Mun San Nee.
And soon the whole world rang with laughter,
Lasting till forever after,
While Cloony stood in the circus tent,
With his head drooped low and his shoulders bent.
And he said,"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT -
I'M FUNNY JUST BY ACCIDENT."
And while the world laughed outside.
Cloony the Clown sat down and cried.
#93
"Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
#94
"Macavity - The Mystery Cat"
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw--
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime--Macavity's not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there's no on like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime--Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air--
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!
Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly doomed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square--
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!
He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair--
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!
And when the Foreign Office finds a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scap of paper in the hall or on the stair--
But it's useless of investigate--Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
"It must have been Macavity!"--but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macacity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibit, or one or two to spare:
And whatever time the deed took place--MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!
#95
"The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus" by Ogden Nash
In Baltimore there lived a boy,
He wasn't anybody's joy.
Although his name was Jabez Dawes,
His character was full of flaws.
In school he never led his classes,
He hid old ladies' reading glasses,
His mouth was open when he chewed,
And elbows to the table glued.
He stole the milk of hungry kittens,
And walked through doors marked No Admittance.
He said he acted thus because
There wasn't any Santa Claus.
Another trick that tickled Jabez
Was crying "Boo!" at little babies.
He brushed his teeth, they said in town,
Sideways instead of up and down.
Yet people pardoned every sin,
And viewed his antics with a grin,
Till they were told by Jabez Dawes,
"There isn't any Santa Claus!"
Deploring how he did behave,
His parents swiftly sought their grave.
They hurried through the portals pearly,
And Jabez left the funeral early.
Like whooping cough, from child to child,
He sped to spread the rumor wild:
"Sure as my name is Jabez Dawes
There isn't any Santa Claus!"
Slunk like a weasel or a marten
Through nursery and kindergarten,
Whispering low to every tot,
"There isn't any, no there's not!"
The children wept all Christmas Eve
And Jabez chortled up his sleeve.
No infant dared to hang up his stocking
For fear of Jabez' ribald mocking.
He sprawled on his untidy bed,
Fresh malice dancing in his head,
When presently with scalp a-tingling,
Jabez heard a distant jingling;
He heard the crunch of sleigh and hoof
Crisply alighting on the roof.
What good to rise and bar the door?
A shower of soot was on the floor.
What was beheld by Jabez Dawes?
The fireplace full of Santa Claus!
Then Jabez fell upon his knees
With cries of "Don't," and "Pretty please."
He howled, "I don't know where you read it,
But anyhow, I never said it!"
"Jabez," replied the angry saint,
"It isn't I, it's you that ain't.
Although there is a Santa Claus,
There isn't any Jabez Dawes!"
Said Jabez with impudent vim,
"Oh, yes there is; and I am him!
Your magic don't scare me, it doesn't"---
And suddenly he found he wasn't!
From grimy feet to grimy locks,
Jabez became a Jack-in-the-box,
An ugly toy with springs unsprung,
Forever sticking out his tongue.
The neighbors heard his mournful squeal;
They searched for him, but not with zeal.
No trace was found of Jabez Dawes,
Which led to thunderous applause,
And people drank a loving cup
And went and hung their stockings up.
All you who sneer at Santa Claus,
Beware the fate of Jabez Dawes,
The saucy boy who mocked the saint.
Donder and Blitzen licked off his paint.
#96
"The Tiger Who Wore White Gloves" by Gwendolyn Brooks
There once was a tiger, terrible and tough,
who said “I don’t think tigers are stylish enough.
They put on only orange and stripes of fierce black.
Fine and fancy fashion is what they mostly lack.
Even though they proudly
speak most loudly,
so that the jungle shakes
and every eye awakes—
Even though they slither
hither and thither
in such a wild way
that few may care to stay—
to be tough just isn’t enough.”
These things the tiger said,
And growled and tossed his head,
and rushed to the jungle fair
for something fine to wear.
Then!—what a hoot and yell
upon the jungle fell
The rhinoceros rasped!
The elephant gasped!
“By all that’s sainted!”
said wolf—and fainted.
The crocodile cried.
The lion sighed.
The leopard sneered.
The jaguar jeered.
The antelope shouted.
The panther pouted.
Everyone screamed
“We never dreamed
that ever could be
in history
a tiger who loves
to wear white gloves.
White gloves are for girls
with manners and curls
and dresses and hats and bow-ribbons.
That’s the way it always was
and rightly so, because
it’s nature’s nice decree
that tiger folk should be
not dainty, but daring,
and wisely wearing
what’s fierce as the face,
not whiteness and lace!”
They shamed him and shamed him—
till none could have blamed him,
when at last, with a sigh
and a saddened eye,
and in spite of his love,
he took off each glove,
and agreed this was meant
all to prevail:
each tiger content
with his lashing tail
and satisfied
with his strong striped hide.
#97
"The Wise Man and The Fool" by John McLeod
Said the wise man to the fool one day:
"I've got a hundred candles,
And lots of copper candlesticks with ornamental handles,
They cost me every cent I had
But I shall be all right,
And in the darkness of the eve I'll have a splendid light."
The fool said: "Yes, you may be wise,
But then again, p'raps not,
Only pence had I to buy, one candle's all I got,
But then, I bought some matches too
And you, the silly goose,
Bought none, and so without a light
Your candles are no use!"
The moral of the story
Is simplicity's defense
For even the buffooning clown
May have some common sense!
The wise man and the village fool,
But tell me which is which?
The one with only coppers?
Or the other very rich?
#98
"Moving"
Too many a discontented mourner
Is spending his days on Grumble Corner -
Sour and sad - whom I long to entreat
We should move to Thanksgiving Street.
#99
"This poem" by Donald Justice
This poem is not addressed to you.
You may come into it briefly,
But no one will find you here, no one.
You will have changed before the poem will.
Even while you sit there, unmovable,
You have begun to vanish. And it does no matter.
The poem will go on without you.
It has the spurious glamor of certain voids.
It is not sad, really, only empty.
Once perhaps it was sad, no one knows why.
It prefers to remember nothing.
Nostalgias were peeled from it long ago.
Your type of beauty has no place here.
Night is the sky over this poem.
It is too black for stars.
And do not look for any illumination.
You neither can nor should understand what it means.
Listen, it comes with out guitar,
Neither in rags nor any purple fashion.
And there is nothing in it to comfort you.
Close your eyes, yawn. It will be over soon.
You will forge the poem, but not before
It has forgotten you. And it does not matter.
It has been most beautiful in its erasures.
O bleached mirrors! Oceans of the drowned!
Nor is one silence equal to another.
And it does not matter what you think.
This poem is not addressed to you.
What do you think ?
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