Mrs. Plumpy Rumpy Wumps

Mrs. Plumpy Rumpy Wumps

Counted all her lumpy lumps

Fifty lumpy lumps she had

And she thought, “Well, that’s not bad…

But I’d like more lumpy lumps

Real lumpy ones, not just small bumps.”

And so she piled food on her plate

And ate and ate and ate and ate

She ate until her lump-count grew

From fifty up to eighty-two!

“Eighty-two is good,” she said

“But if I eat while I’m in bed

I bet I’d get to ninety-three!”

So Mrs. Wumps, with an I.V.

Was fed all night through one large vein

It didn’t cause her any pain

And after twenty nights, Ms. Wumps

Had two hundred and twenty lumps

“That’s grand!” she cried, “But I want more!

I want nine hundred sixty four!

I must eat up, and starting now!”

And so she promptly ate a cow

And then a duck and then a goose

And then a battered, deep-fried moose

She ate until she had to rest

Then while she slept, ground chicken breast

Was fed to her through her I.V.

Along with butter, lard and ghee

For twelve weeks she continued so

Her lumpy self did grow and grow

And on the Counting Day, Ms. Wumps

Found nine hundred and ninety lumps!

And though she died of heart disease

She died contented, rest in peace.

Blinger's Bread

While cutting bread, young Bonk P. Blinger

Slipped the knife and cut his finger

“Ow, gosh darn it!” Blinger said

And his finger promptly bled

Bloody drops from finger fell

Each as red as flames from Hell

Blinger’s blood, bright fiery red

Landed on the piece of bread

And this arose in Blinger’s thoughts:

“Teehee! The bread’s got chicken pox!”

He stared some more at those red dots

That looked so much like chicken pox

And saw, with awe, that each drop spread

Until the thick white piece of bread

Was soggy with the blood; as such

Poor Blinger thought: “I bled that much?!”

But no, the blood did not stop there

It soaked the table, and the chair

It soaked the sink, it soaked the floor

The blood was spreading more and more

“I only bled some drops!” Bonk cried.

“The blood, it seems, has multiplied!

In fact, I guess, it looks to me

From several drops arose a sea!”

And Bonk was right—‘cause soon his blood

Became a veritable flood

It rose right up to Blinger’s chin

And so he swam to save his skin

Swam out into the streets, but there

He saw that blood was everywhere

“No hope!” he cried, “There’s no escape!”

And he began to suffocate

So that the blood from his own finger

Drowned the sorry Bonk P. Blinger

(Except, of course, this is a lie…

Don’t worry, Blinger didn’t die

There was no cut; no blood did fall

He didn’t hurt himself at all

It never entered in his thoughts

That his white bread had chicken pox

He didn’t drown in blood; instead

He merely ate his piece of bread.)

A Man Made of Fudge

There is a young man named McSkudge

Who’s entirely made out of fudge

If you meet him, you’ll know

‘Cause your right palm will show

(From the handshake) a chocolate smudge

The Snuffles

Mr. Snuffles and Mrs. Snuffles

Lived in a pile of tough old truffles

So whenever they fought or scuffled

Their shouts were muffled by the tough old truffles.

The Snitch and the Tattler

A while ago, in lonely woods

A very small cottage was hid

And there lived Snitch and Tattler

Who said what each other did

When Snitch woke up in the morning

Tattler called out, “Snitch is awake!”

When Tattler had an apple torte

Snitch cried, “He’s eating cake!”

When Snitch plucked plums from plum trees

Tattler said, “Snitch gathers fruit!”

When Tattler passed gas in the evening

Snitch said, “That was Tattler’s toot!”

When Snitch broke a jar full of flowers

Tattler said, “Snitch smashed our vase!”

And when Snitch found Tattler’s underpants

He cried, “Tattler likes wearing lace!”

And when his roommate stumbled

Tattler called, “Look! Snitch fell down!”

And then when Tattler tried to swim

Snitch said, “He almost drowned!”

Then Tattler had a cup of Joe

And Snitch said, “Tat drinks coffee!”

And then when Snitch ate candy

Tattler said, “Snitch gobbles toffee!”

When Tattler called his mama

Snitch said, “Tattler misses mother!”

When Snitch went out to milk the cows

Cried Tattler: “Snitch touched udders!”

The two of them went on like this

Through every single year

Proclaiming what each other did

Though no one seemed to hear

And do you think it’s silly

To announce what others do?

Well, if you don’t then you might be

A Snitch or Tattler too.

The Blind Cetacean

There once was a sight-impaired whale

Who stroked the sea floor with his tail

He said, “Ain’t it grand

That the pebbles in sand

Can arrange themselves not unlike Braille.”

The Bat

There once was a bat cut out of the very same cloth

As the star-strewn sky

So you’d see a section of midnight

Flap its wings as it flew by

The bat was black as tar

And twice as thick as a damaged mind

It had three stars: one on each wing

And one on its behind

It did not echolocate

But produced a subtle drone

The kind of hollow humming

Of a man who lives alone

Not many people saw it

As it swept through trees at night

But those who did reported

That the world will be all right.