The Sand-Dwelling Nommer

Everyone loves to visit the shore

With its kelp and seashells and lobsters galore

But if you have a trip to the beach all planned

You should know what lies beneath the sand

The Sand-Dwelling Nommer is the name of the beast

And he’s rather rude, to say the least

For if you meet him, just by chance

He’ll gobble up your shirt and pants

Then gobble up your armpit hair

And gobble up your underwear

And then he’ll gobble you up too

(But he’ll always spit out both your shoes)

And he makes a very peculiar noise

While gobbling up little girls and boys

It sounds a bit like, “Nom nom nom!”

Or at least, that’s what we heard just before we lost Tom

So beware of the Nommer while you’re at the shore

He’s always hungry for one more

And if he’s got a new victim, you’ll know the clues:
An echo of “nom” and two sandy shoes

The Lonely Mushroom

There once was a mushroom who sighed,

“Oh dear, I’m so dreadfully shy.

There’s a lot goin’ for me

But women ignore me

I guess I’m just not a fungi.”

Le Dragon et le Carniche

There once was a girl whose name was Kate

She took French lessons every day

She learned grammar and pronunciation

From a tutor named Madame Lafay

But while at lessons, she noticed a whisper

That repeated whatever she said

It wasn’t from inside the house

And it wasn’t from inside her head

So she went out to investigate

As to who this eavesdropper could be

And just under the window in the tulip bed

She found a dragon the height of her knee!

Kate was so startled she turned perfectly white

And had to sit down on the bench

She stuttered, “Y-you mean it’s a d-dragon

Who’s been eavesdropping on my French?”

“Pardon moi, little girl!” the dragon replied

“I know what I did was a sin.

But I wanted to brush up a bit on my French

So I thought that I’d just listen in.”

“You sneaky thing!” said Kate with reproach

“Why didn’t you hire your own teacher?

And why on earth do you want to learn French?

After all, you’re a mythical creature!”

“Well, I’ve recently fallen in love,” he replied

“With a woman who’s not from this nation.

And as she’s a francophone mademoiselle

I’m improving my French pronunciation.”

“I haven’t been able to ask her out yet

Though I’m certainly hoping to try

But she’s so very pretty, and my French is so poor

And frankly, well, I’m a bit shy.”

“Who is she?” asked Kate in a curious tone

And the dragon pointed straight down the block

Where a little old lady wearing plenty of rouge

Was taking her dog for a walk

“Don’t tell me you love Ms. Pimkins?!” Kate asked

In a tone of complete disbelief

“But of course not, my dear!” the dragon replied

“I’m in love with the lass on the leash.”

“That’s Cosette, her poodle,” Kate pointed out

“I guess she’s not a bad-looking dame.”

“I love her,” said the dragon, with wistful eyes

“But she doesn’t even know my name.”

“I could help you with French,” said Kate after a pause

“If you don’t mind me being pedantic.

It would help me improve if I taught someone else…

And besides, this is all so romantic.”

“Oh, merci!” said the dragon, embracing Kate’s legs

“Not a problem,” said Kate with a grin

“Just come tap on my window tomorrow at noon

And your cours de francais will begin.”

They studied together each day for a week

And the dragon was doing just great

So he decided that very same Friday

He would ask out Cosette on a date

Kate helped the dragon get all spruced up

She gave him a file for his nails

And a fire extinguisher for his breath

And some oil to shine up his scales

Then she dropped him off at Cosette’s house

And was almost was as nervous as he

But she never saw him again after that

And wondered if Cosette had said, “Oui”

Soon after, Ms. Pimkins was babbling

That Cosette had escaped from her leash

And no one believed her, but she swore un dragon

Had eloped with her precious carniche

My Pet Bunny

There are lots of pets in this big wide world

And some aren’t quite right in the head

There are cats that insist they’re not cats at all

But friendly dogs instead

And then they are dogs who think they’re cats

They’d rather purr than bark

But I’ve got the weirdest pet of all

A bunny that thinks she’s a shark

She’s really quite demented

And she ought to be on meds

She’s fond of swimming in the bath

And tearing rubber ducks to shreds

She’s horrible to visitors

Like my sister’s boyfriend, Brendan

She stalked him for a while

Then sunk her teeth in his Achilles tendon

She sharpens her bunny teeth with a file

To perfect her frightening grin

And she’s tied a banana to her back

(She considers it her fin)

She slides along the carpet

Like she’s gliding through the sea

And she’s keen on blood, so she shows up

Whenever someone skins a knee

Yes, she thinks she's a shark, and we’re not really sure

Where on earth she got the notion

But at this point we think it might be best

To release her in the ocean

Rose Revises Shakespeare

There once was a woman named Rose McDocks

Who smelled as sweet as a daisy

But Rose wasn’t fond of the name she had

She wanted to be called Maisy

So she told her friends, “I’m no longer Rose.

From now on I’m Maisy McDocks.”

But then for no logical reason at all

She started to smell like old socks

She showered and scrubbed the whole day through

She shampooed and conditioned her hair

But she still smelled of socks, and she blamed her new name

So she changed it from Maisy to Claire

As Claire her stench was even worse

For although she wore clean clothes

She smelled exactly like the fungus

That grows between athletes’ toes

So she gave up trying to change her name

And sure enough, smelled fresh and sweet

And that’s 'cause a Rose by any other name

Would smell as feet

An Insect's Punishment for Piety

There once was a church infested with bugs

Where a priest was giving a sermon

He didn’t use the Bible much

Except to smash the vermin

When a bug landed on the pulpit

He’d whack it and not blink an eye

Then he’d continue with his sermon

About how God was a merciful guy

But he later glanced at what he killed

And he found it rather odd

That he’d smashed a praying mantis

On his hard-back Word of God

The Song of the Cactus

Sometimes a cactus is friendly

And sometimes a cactus is crass

Sometimes a cactus will sing you a song

But you won’t know until you ask

Just head out for the desert

And ask the first cactus you find

Be polite and say, “Mr. Cactus…

I’d love you to sing, would you mind?”

The cactus will clear his poky throat

(For it gets bit dry, you know)

And then he’ll start his singing

In a voice that’s rough and low

“Oh a cactus in the desert

Is the wisest plant there is

He knows what makes the rivers flow

And what makes soda fizz

He knows why elves have pointy ears

And he knows how wildfires start

But the one thing that he doesn’t know

Is the way to a woman’s heart

Oh, the very first of the cacti

Was a plant so moist and green

And it had the biggest flowers

That two eyes have ever seen

But this plant, he loved a woman

And her name was Isabel

He said, “Izzie, would you marry me?”

And she said, “Go to hell”

So the cactus cried his tears of dew

Until he could cry no more

And pretty soon he was all dried up

Just like the desert floor

And his heart was sad and bitter

And he had long and lonely nights

So he kept women far away from him

By growin’ a thousand spikes.”

Now you know why the cactus has his spikes

And why he’s so hard and dry

But as for the elves and their pointy ears

You’ll have to keep wonderin’ why

P.S. I actually wrote a tune for the cactus's song, so ask me and I'll sing it for you sometime.