The Beast

At home I keep a live monster,

You should hear it rumble and roar.

It wakes up, and then, with a slurp and a suck

It gobbles up muck from the floor.

Clippings of toenails, dead bits of skin,

Old bits of mould and grey dust.

It gives not a jot if it’s filthy or not,

It gulps it all down; it’s not fussed.

It belches warm air from its bottom,

And it’s got an incredible nose,

All long and thin like an elephant’s trunk,

Or a sinuous snake, or a hose.

My cat runs away when she sees it,

She thinks there is nothing that’s meaner

More fearsome, more dreadful, more fiendish and foul

Than this monster: my new vacuum cleaner.

 

 

 

Cornflakes

I’m trying to get the cornflake packet

All the way up there

Can I reach it? Possibly not

I think I’ll get my chair

Thump, thump

Streeeeeeeetch

Streeeeeeeetch

No, it’s still too high

I’ll just fetch something else and then

I’ll have another try

 

I’m trying to some cornflakes down

Yes, that’s what I’m trying to do

I’ve got a chair (it’s over there)

And now a cushion too

Thump, thump

Flumpy flop

Streeeeeeeeetch

Streeeeeeeeetch

No, it’s still too high

I’ll just fetch something else and then

I’ll have another try

 

The trouble with the cushion, I see

Is it’s far too full of puff

Maybe a stool on top would do

Yes, that would be high enough!

Thump, thump

Flumpy flop

Sinky slump

Streeeeeeeeetch

Streeeeeeeeetch

No, it’s still too high

I’ll just fetch something else and then

I’ll have another try

 

 

I really need some cornflakes now

And the stool is still too low

A couple of books on top should do

Pile them – off I go!

Thump, thump

Flumpy flop

Sinky slump

Teeter, totter

Streeeeeeeetch

Streeeeeeeetch

No, it’s still too high

I’ll just fetch something else and then

I’ll have another try

 

What can I do? I’m just too short

A-ha! I’ve got a fix

I’ll build a tower (on top of the books)

With seven wooden bricks

Thump, thump

Flumpy flop

Sinky slump

Teeter, totter

Wibble, wobble

Streeeeeeeeeeetch

Streeeeeeeeeeetch

No, it’s still too high

I’ll just fetch something else and then

I’ll have another try

 

I can’t give up! I need them now!

They’re my favourite food – they’re great

And so, on top of my tottering tower

I’ll put a roller skate

Thump, thump

Flumpy flop

Sinky slump

Teeter, totter

Wibble, wobble

Roly roly

Streeeeeeeeeeetch

Streeeeeeeeeeetch

Cr…

cr…

cr…

cr…

cr…

cr…

CRUNCHY CORNFLAKES!

Now back down:

Roly roly

Wibble wobble

Teeter totter

Sinky slump

Flumpy flop

Thump thump

DONE IT!

Pitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatterpittarpatterpittarpatterpitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatter

Pitter

Patter

Why did no-one tell me the packet had a hole in?

 

 

 

 

 

 

If You’re Up There

Dear God,

If you exist

Couldn’t it, for once, be missed?

Church, I mean. There’s nothing wrong

With little bits; it’s just too long.

I don’t suppose that you’re to blame,

But every Sunday it’s the same;

The vicar droning on and on

About Saint Luke (or was it John?),

And staring at the service sheets

(It’s like TV with all repeats)

Then yet another dreary hymn.

You see, I’d like to go and swim

With Tina (she’s an atheist

And says you really don’t exist)

Who’s splashing in the swimming pool

While I’m stuck here at Sunday school

Mumbling out a boring prayer.

God – it’s obviously not fair!

The vicar always says you’re kind.

I’m hoping, then, that you won’t mind

If, for just this once, today,

I boycott church. Is that OK?

So goodbye God, and cheerio,

And if you mind, do let me know.

Oh, and dear God – p.s.

You possibly exist, I guess.

 

Road Trip

On this journey we’ve not seen

A single traffic light that’s green

They’re always

Red

Red

Red

For the lorry and bikes and the coach and the bus

They tend to be green, but just for us

They’re always

Red

Red

Red

The idiots sat in the car in front

Get all the greens they could possibly want

For us they’re

Red

Red

Red

The pedestrians there are quicker by far

Than we’ll ever be in our little old car

For us they’re

Red

Red

Red

But what’s ahead? To our delight

A dazzling go-straight-through green light

Quick, quick, quick! Accelerate!

We’ll make it through – we can’t be late

We’re nearly at the traffic light

The car’s stalled

That’s right

And now it’s

Red

Red

Red

 

 

Nobody Knows What They’re Growing

When my aunties went to the garden shop

They were all in a rush and a hurry

They thought they’d bought some packets of seeds

‘We know what these are, don’t worry’

‘Oo!’ they cried, ‘we’ll grow some flowers

Some blooming and beautiful plants’

But instead they’d purchased (cheap in the sale)

One hundred packets of…

What have they bought?

What could it be?

What are they growing?

Please let me see!

They dug up the soil, they made lots of holes

They planted in several neat rows

But soon there were sprouting (now don’t look so doubting!)

Some beautiful…

What have they bought?

What could it be?

What are they planting?

Please let me see!

Then there were flowers all over the place

Hundreds and thousands and scores

All frilly and lacy (though possibly racy)

They seemed to be elegant…

What have they bought?

What could it be?

What are they growing?

Please let me see!

‘I know!’ one aunt cried, ‘Let’s make bouquets,

I think we’d make excellent pickers’

They started to cut at the flower stalks, but

What had they grown? Were they…

What have they bought?

What could it be?

What are they growing?

Please let me see!

Then came the neighbours, and soon all the air

Was awash with much gossip and rumours

Next day it was known my two aunties had grown

Not blooms but some huge pairs of…

Bloomers!

But my aunties bunched up their big frilly flowers

Their pantyhose, drawers and their knickers

And they won first prize at the garden fete

(They even beat the vicar’s)

Then they looked at their garden and merely shrugged

‘Ho hum’, they said, ‘oh, well.

It’s not that we didn’t grow plants, you see,

But they simply lacked an ‘l’.

 

 

 

 

 

To Be

 

I do chess before breakfast

And then, as a rule

I practice my French

For an hour before school

At break I do piano

At lunch I stay in

Learning some scales

On my new violin

Then when school’s over I do

Balletjudotennissswimmingmathskarateballetnetballspanishfootballpaintingtaekwondomandarin

dramacomputerscapoeiraandanhourortwoofhomework

And that’s before tea

I’m doing lots of doing

But where’s my time to be?

Message on the Answerphone

When Granny went for a check-up,

The dentist got a surprise.

‘It’s lovely to see you’, the dentist said,

‘But oh – what enormous eyes!’

(Granny said nothing, but licked her jaw.

Haven’t we seen this Granny before?)

‘Now’, said the dentist, ‘come over here,

And sit yourself down in this chair.

The chair’s great fun, but oh – I see

That your face is all covered in hair!’

(In fact this Granny looks scarily shady

Maybe she’s not just a charming old lady).

‘Don’t be afraid’, the dentist said,

‘Forget all your worries and fears.

It won’t hurt at all, or not very much,

But oh – what huge pointy ears!’

(A lady doesn’t have ears like those!

And she looks rather strange in her ill-fitting clothes)

‘There’s no need to scream’, the dentist said,

‘There’s no need to cry or to howl’

Although as he said this Granny turned,

And let out a low rumbling growl

(And now her mouth is starting to dribble.

Let’s hope she doesn’t like dentists to nibble!)

‘So’, said the dentist, ‘open your mouth.

I need to see what’s inside’.

Granny winked one mean yellow eye,

Then suddenly up opened wide.

‘My!’ cried the dentist, ‘what sharp teeth!

They look like they’re made to kill’

Then he went to his cupboard and searched for a while,

Then took out a very big drill.

He plugged it in, made sure it was sharp,

Then turned to the patient’s chair.

But what could have happened? Where had she gone?

GRANNY WAS SIMPLY NOT THERE!

‘That poor old woman!’ the dentist cried,

‘She seemed to be frightened to death!

And her teeth could have done with a polish and clean

As I smelled little girls on her breath’.

Little Girls? The dentist suddenly screamed,

And got on the phone to Miss Hood.

‘Call the police when your granny comes next

As I don’t think she’s up to much good’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Typographical Damage

The General went onto the internet,

To buy some bombs, he said.

But he typed it wrong, so what did he get?

A load of combs instead.

And planes despatched their cargo of combs

Over cities and villages, factories and homes.

Now watch the surprise in the enemies’ eyes

As combs rain down from the blue summer skies,

And houses stand tall in the smooth streets where

The children are playing with combs in their hair.

And the faces of soldiers break out in smiles

As they comb their hair in elaborate styles,

And wash and shampoo, and trim their split ends

And say to their enemies ‘Now let’s be friends’.

The General went onto the internet.

Would he try for a bomb once more?

But he typed it wrong, so instead he got

A tomb

To bury all war.

 

 

Not My Present

My sister’s got a new bike

But it’s NOT a bike that I like

It’s all red and blue and it’s sparkly and new

But it’s NOT a bike that I like

It has twenty one gears (you should see how it steers)

You can ride it for ages – a million light years!

But it’s NOT a bike that I like

When my sister gets on she’s as swift as a cheetah

There’s nothing on earth that is faster or fleeter

She goes like a rocket – no, no-one can beat her

It’s NOT a bike that I like

My sister’s new bike – oh you should see it shine!

It’s amazing, astounding, a brilliant design!

It’s lovely, it’s perfect, in fact it’s so fine

That I wish, yes I wish, yes I wish it was mine…

No, no, no I don’t!

No, it’s NOT a bike that I like

It’s not!

It’s NOT a bike that I like

 

 

Doing Shakespeare

Please Sir, break’s near.

So why are we still doing Shakespeare?

We know all the lines in the whole of Macbeth.

We’re bored of it now – yes, we’ve done it to death!

If he were alive then I’d say to him ‘Will,

It’s time for our break, but we’re sitting here still.

And your plays – well I guess they’d be kind of OK

If Sir would teach them a different way,

But Sir here has murdered all your best verse,

And your lines are just ghosts, and what’s even worse

We’ve got to revise for our English exam

And all of us here, we don’t give a damn!’

So please Sir, break’s near

And none of the class is awake here

So please Sir, make clear:

Why are we still doing Shakespeare?