If You Bet Upon a Star

You see that light shining out far?

You probably think it’s a star

But I’ll bet you a buck

It’s a firefly that’s stuck

In a sky that's been covered in tar

Weighing Snakes

“How heavy are you, snake?” asked Jade

He was a snake-seller by trade

And though all the snake tails

Were covered in scales
Not one snake could say what it weighed.

A Worm Murderer's Murky Motives

Jeffrey Gurms is killing worms, unapologetically

He gives them names, then kills them off in order, alphabetically

He smashes them with rocks and sticks, extremely energetically

Then watches as they squirm and ooze and bleed and die pathetically

He loves this hobby most of all— he’s drawn to it magnetically

He makes a mess of worm guts, but he’s not concerned aesthetically

Perhaps his lust to torture worms was built in him genetically

Or maybe this is how he learns to know of death, poetically
But possibly it’s ‘cause his surname rhymes with “worms,” phonetically.

Taking Responsibility

My mind it went a-pondering

My feet they went a-wandering

My clothes they went a-laundering
Just kidding. I did that.

The Story of Christ's Birth

The Virgin Mary never whined

A nicer girl you couldn’t find

She was as friendly as a pup

Until, one day, she got knocked up

By God or some mysterious force

(But not her husband, Joe, of course)

And pregnant Mary was a stinker

Rude, obnoxious, and a drinker

Mostly of tequila shots

But sometimes vodka on the rocks

And with her drink, she liked to eat:

She’d bark, “Bring me fried chicken feet!

And tacos and some guacamole!

Make it snappy, kid! I’m holy!”

So Saint Joe would try his best

To meet his woman’s odd requests

But words like “taco,” said by Mary,

Sent him to a dictionary

‘Cause of course, the Jewish Joe

Knew little about Mexico

So when his wife said: “Joselito!

Bring me home a fat burrito!”

Saint Joe answered, “Sure thing Mary!”

And he grabbed his dictionary

Then came home with a donkey foal

Thinking he had reached his goal

“Not a donkey!” Mary spat

Beans and cheese is where it’s at!

I want foiled-wrapped, rolled-up feast!

Not some stupid donkey beast!”

“But Mary…” poor St. Joseph cried

“I tried my best! I really tried!

‘Burro’ is donkey, sure as I live!

And ‘ito’ is diminutive!”

Well, Mary felt a little bad

To make her husband feel so sad

And so she said, “Don’t worry, Joe.

This donkey’s good. Now we can go

On honeymoon! To Mexico!”

And so they walked, beneath the moon

With Mary dreaming of Cancun

But ‘cause her map weren’t worth a damn

She ended up in Bethlehem

“Oh, rats,” she said, “I need a beer.

I'll have to have the Christ child here.”

And that’s how Mary, Heaven’s joy

Gave birth to little Savior boy

And when the wise man, name of Jonah

Came, she asked, “You got Corona?”

So he checked inside his tents
But all he found was frankincense.

The Importance of Disclosing Methodology in National Health Surveys

His name is Professor Moongalobyplockurgesis

He’s the national inspector for nocturnal enuresis

He wears a Frankenstein costume and arrives in your room

Around midnight or so, with the sound of a BOOM

From his Thunder-o-Matic-Boom-Tastic-Machine

Which one-hundred-percent guarantees that you’ll scream

Then he’ll swab at your sheets with a Q-tip and say

“You have helped in my study. Do have a nice day.”

He does visits like these every night, all in stealth

And compiles a report for Department of Health

Full of bar graphs and charts that support his main thesis:

"100% of us have enuresis."

(A statistic that made the Department confused
Until they discovered the methods he'd used).