Misconceived

Peg was a woman with Siamese twins

She said, “Where one ends, the other begins.”

But they weren’t really twins, it was just that Peg

Thought a human was born with one arm and one leg.

An Unlucky Friar

An unlucky friar in a friary

Stepped in a bush that was briary

He continued to walk

But then tripped on a rock

And fell on a fence of barbed wirey

My Heart is an Eel

My heart cannot feel

My heart is an eel

A slippery, slimy old eel.

It cares not of love

Or of heaven above

It wants only to find its next meal.

Don’t ask me to say

You look pretty today

Don’t ask me to say

That you’re sweet

My heart is an eel

A wriggly eel

It only wants something to eat.

Don’t ask about me

Or what film we should see

Don’t ask for a Valentine’s card

My heart is an eel

A beady-eyed eel

For eels, such questions are hard.

You think that I’m sad?

That I’m lonely or mad?

You’re wrong, and I’m telling you why

My heart is an eel

A rubbery eel

And rubbery eels do not cry.

Life Sure Goes By Quick; or, The Five Senses

Look at us look at us hey look at us

We’re bumbling along in a big orange bus

Look at us look at us look where we go

We go at full speed across hillscapes of snow

Look at us look at us look what we see

A rare polar bear and a Snickerpatch tree

Hear with us hear with us hear what we hear

The screeps and the scrapes of the bus shifting gear

Touch with us touch with us touch what we touch

These smooth wooden clogs that we bought from the Dutch

Taste with us taste with us taste what we taste

Eat all your peas so they don’t go to waste

Smell with us smell with us please take a whiff

The smell of a bus heading straight toward a cliff

Look at us look at us look at us fall

We’ll crash at the bottom, nice knowing you all

The Consequences of a Button's Dietary Habits

This giant black button

Had eaten some mutton

Before he was sewn on my purse

He burped on the tram

So the tram smelt like lamb

But I guess there are smells that are worse.

A Priest's Feast; or, We Can Only Hope He Choked on the Antlers

There once was a miserable priest

Who said, “I would like some roast beast.”

He saw a stag stagger

Stabbed it dead with a dagger

And ate its fine head for his feast.

The Smigglyput

What of a what is a smigglyput?

Is it purple or yellow or gray?

Does it say “pokypoo” or “balooglemaroo”?

Oh what does a smigglyput say?
And where of a where is a smigglyput?

Yes, where on the Earth does it hide?

Is it inside my shoe or my plastic kazoo?

Is it under the dress of the bride?

And who of a who is a smigglyput?

Is it boastful or angry or shy?

Is it wise like the owl? Does it giggle or scowl?

Oh what makes a smigglyput cry?

And when of a when is a smigglyput?

Is it always or never or now?

Is it when the bell rings, or the fat lady sings?

Is it when little Jack sold the cow?
And why of a why is a smigglyput?

‘Cuz of science, religion or art?

“I think, therefore I smigglyput.”

What’s that mean, eh, Descartes?

And how of a how is a smigglyput?

Is it stirred, shaken, blended or poured?

I only know this of the smigglyput:

It only shows up when you’re bored.