July 31, 2015

Crumbs in the Butter

Who put crumbs in the butter, again?

It’s like finding sand full of rocks.

Who put crumbs in the butter, again?

It looks like some crust-pustuled pox.

Who put crumbs in the butter, again?

Like dandruff that’s fallen off bread.

Who put crumbs in the butter, again?

It’s lumpy and won’t even spread.

Who put crumbs in the butter, again?

And why can’t they just wipe their knife?

Who put crumbs in the butter, again?

It’s TOTALLY ruined my life.

July 26, 2015

Getting Moving

Sometimes we walk forwards,

Sometimes we walk backwards,

But when we hear there’s cake for tea

We all run snackwards!

July 17, 2015

Lolly Tree

Ice lollies, ice lollies, wouldn’t it be nice (lollies),

Wouldn’t it be good if your ice lolly sticks could grow?

Maybe if you planted them, and possibly enchanted them,

They’d all grow into lolly trees. Oh well, you never know!

Dig a little, dig a little, make the hole quite big (a little)

Push them in the soil and then just wait for them to sprout.

Sit around for hours, and then watch the little flowers,

And eventually the lolly fruit will bloom and blossom out.

Pick a little, pick a little, pick and pick and lick a little,

Hurry now, the sun’s come out – you’ll have to be quite quick!

Ice lollies, ice lollies, wouldn’t it be nice (lollies),

Wouldn’t it be good if you could plant a lolly stick?

 

July 13, 2015

Vacuum Gran

Have you seen her? Have you seen her?

Granny and her vacuum cleaner?

All day long she zips and zooms

Throughout the house, through all the rooms.

Her stare is stern. Her glare is mean.

She says ‘I want this whole house CLEAN’

No dirt is safe, no dust can hide;

Her eagle eyes are open wide.

Gran looks in all the crannies, nooks,

The ceiling, shelves, the tops of books,

She checks for teeny tiny specks,

For mites and motes and fluff and flecks,

For every little bit of grit

In places that remain unlit,

She spies some spiders, spindly, black,

Then yells out loud ‘And now, ATTACK!’

So Granny turns the hoover on

She screams out, ‘Dust and dirt, BE GONE!’

It’s on full power. It starts to suck,

But then, oh dear! What dreadful luck!

The Hoover sucks the tables, chairs,

The floors, the doors, the walls, the stairs,

The rugs, the jugs, a coat, a hat,

(It even sucks poor Granny’s cat),

And then, when all is spick and span,

The Hoover sucks up dear old Gran.

Oh yes, she’s vanished in a trice,

But still, at least her house looks nice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

July 10, 2015

Making Waves

My washing-up sink is a big sea of foam,

From where the plates set sail for home,

And submarine cups bob up and roll

Past mugs and jugs as they drift by a bowl,

And dishes drift on in the froth and the spray,

Over the waves, and far, far away,

While down on the seabed a fork and a spoon

Sing songs in the beams of the kitchen-light moon.

July 5, 2015

Morning Has Broken (oops!)

Like an egg, the dawn just broke,

And now the sun, that brilliant yolk,

Is rising slowly in the sky,

While egg-white clouds go drifting by.

But then the wind comes, whoosh and whirr,

And gives the sky a short brisk stir,

Until the sun and white clouds too

Are nicely scrambled in the blue.

June 29, 2015

Super(market) Hero

I’m a supermarket hero;

I’m the champion of the aisle.

I can swerve round each curve,

And I do it in such style.

I put cauli in my trolley,

I find broccoli and brie,

Then I slalom to salami;

It’s the shopping trip Grand Prix.

I accelerate past celery

And zoom off to the rocket,

Then I grab a jar of honey,

Money rattling in my pocket.

So I hurtle to the burgers

And I whizz off to the biscuits,

But I want to go much faster,

So I think I’m going to risk it,

Then I’m zapping and I’m zipping

And I’m darting and I’m dashing

And I’m whooshing and I’m swooshing,

Then I skid – and oops, I’m crashing!

And a shelf of plums is plummeting,

A tower of tins goes tumbling,

And the sponge cakes all go plunging,

(All the customers are grumbling).

So the manager comes up to me,

And screams ‘What have you DONE!’

But I play it really cool and say,

‘So where’s the prize? I WON!’

 

 

June 24, 2015

Song of the Potato

I wish I could put on a teeny bikini

Or maybe a tie and a shirt.

I’d love to wear shorts and nice clothes of such sorts,

And some socks and some shoes and a skirt.

I dream of a hat! I’d look marvellous in that!

But instead I must wear what I hate, oh

I’ve only one outfit, and so I must flout it,

Because I’m a jacket potato.

 

I’ve got a strong feeling I’d look most appealing

If served (nicely curved) in the nude.

I’d be perfect as chips, I’d be dunked into dips,

And people would say ‘Such good food!’

But clothes would be fine, if they had nice design,

Yet instead I must wear what I hate, oh

I’ve only one get up (I feel rather het up)

Because I’m a jacket potato.

 

 

June 17, 2015

Mistaken Identity (or ‘when the email was wrongly designated as spam’

The email sat.

Like that.

Outbox.

Inbox.

Boxed in.

Back, forth, back,

Single track.

Sat.

Life flat.

Once a draft.

Never laughed, never smiled,

Merely whiled time away.

Older with each folder.

Then one day it bounced!

Pounced and sprang, sang:

‘I am Spam! Spam I am!’

Learned to leap, prance, dance in the ether!

Full of daring, not caring whether

It was read.

No longer dead.

Somersaulted, cybervaulted through wires,

New thoughts and desires

Coursing through its letters.

Throwing off fetters to announce:

I am Spam,

I bounce.

June 15, 2015

The Biscuit Beast

When Barbarous Biscuits come stomping,

When they sit on your plate and come near,

When Custardly Cookies come clomping,

Then sit up and tremble in fear.

Their fangs are made out of vicious meringues;

They have chocolate éclairs for their lips.

And what really shocks is they’re riddled with pox;

They’ve a rash made of white chocolate chips.

Their eyes are huge jammy dodgers,

Their legs and their arms, bourbon creams.

So give them a lick, or they’ll kill you – quick, quick!

And no-one will hear all your screams.

Yes, when Barbarous Biscuits come stomping,

There’s only one thing you can do:

Don’t waver! Don’t wait! Just eat the whole plate!

Or else you might find they’ll eat YOU.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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