Glossy Knee

Glossy knee,

Glossy knee

Some from you

The rest is me.

We run around

And chase a bee

It’s so much fun

To share a knee.

Throughout the day

It shines so bright

From a quarter to nine

‘Till a quarter past night.

We dust it off

For a beautiful sheen

It has its own show

On the TV screen.

We’ve won many awards

In fact thirty three

It’s the joint we love most

Our superb glossy knee.

Loose Brazil

Rickety bridges and falling grasses

Jiggly horses and wobbly asses

Shivering jungles and a shaky hill

Welcome dear friends to loose Brazil

Vibrating monkeys and nattering toads

Bizzing and buzzing on all sorts of roads

Fizzing bird-watchers create satisfying shrills

Causing trembling feathers to make tickly quills

 It’s a wibbly, wobbly, wonderful thrill

Joggling and jiggling in loose Brazil. 

The Chancer of Christmas

T’was the night before Christmas

And after my twelfth whiskey

My sleigh it was swerving

The reindeer were frisky.

We veered past a window

And began climbing a wall

“On Duster on Dixon

On aah…Pete and John Paul”.

“On Slasher on Chancer

On Flasher and….D-Dwight

Don’t crash through that roof now

Or it’ll be fifty tonight”.

But crash hard we did

And with some speed I alighted

If I didn’t know better

I’d swear the deer looked delighted.

Flying through the dark

My landing was quite thuddy

My face now snow white

Where it once had been ruddy.

Chancer spoke in a voice

As clear as a kangaroos

“Next house you have the carrot

And I’ll drink the booze”.

Soon Chancer spluttered

And arose such a clatter

He puked on the sleigh

With a splash and a splatter

“You’ve got it all over

My boots and my sleeve!”

My voice bellowing through the fog

On this cold Christmas Eve.

I tumbled down the next chimney

At an alarming rate

Burning my beard

And smashing the grate.

The carefully hung stockings

I removed them quite quick

And replaced them with mine

The ones covered in sick.

No more drinks for me, I thought

Concentrate on the presents

But then I missed a right turn

And collided with pheasants

Flying around the world

It’s all dizziness and feathers

And puking and falling

In cold frosty weathers.

So Merry Christmas to all

From dear old St.Nick

Some get great presents

Others, a sockful of sick.

Crispy Leaves

Crispy leaves, crispy leaves,

I’m going to put some up my sleeves

Crispy leaves with a satisfying crunch

I like to walk on them during my lunch

Sometimes the wind will blow some away

But I like to stamp on the leaves that stay

I have a rival leaf-stamper his name is Slater

So the leaves up my sleeves I’m saving for later.

What makes me sad about a crispy leaf

Is that its crunch is all too brief.

There would be a lot more to this rhyme

If I could crunch them a second time.  

Mimmie McMacken Meets Wolfy Peter

‘What will we do? I want to have fun’,

said Mimmie McMacken to the crumbs of her bun.

‘Daytime TV can be so boring

Let’s go outside, let’s go exploring.’

With her crumbs in her pocket and her backpack on

Out she stepped in the warm midday sun.

 

Where would she go young Mimmie McMacken?

She headed straight for the trees, to the plants and the bracken.

The rabbits were whistling, the squirrels danced a reel

‘I’ve beat the otters at tennis’, sang the mouse with a squeal.

Looking high up in the branches of the tallest tree

A raven played the banjo for a solitary flea.

 

‘What on earth is going on?’, asked the girl in confusion.

‘This just cannot be real, it’s some sort of illusion’.

‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken’, came a voice from a nest

It was the owl known as Foildongan, the wisest, the best.

‘We’re as real as the magic upon our forest floor.

We love singing and dancing and we’ll hide it no more.’

 

A stern wolfen warning would be next from the owl’s beak

But Mimmie ran off before he could speak.

Already feeling bemused and perplexed

Something more shocking was about to come next.

Hopping over a fence she heard the loud crash of thunder

She was turned upside down in the land of down under.

 

Not on the ground but the wrong way up in the trees

She walked right into a wallabies knees

‘Eech and ouch on an upside down couch

And a didgeridoo in a kangaroos pouch!’

‘Ow and pow to my knees at high noon

Wow to the platypus on a billabong bassoon’.

 

‘My knees, they got hurt ’, laughed the wallaby, ‘it’s amusing’.

‘No its not, replied Mimmie, ‘I find you strange and confusing’.

‘One moment you are crying out with the pain in your knees

And the next you laugh it off, cool as a breeze’.

 ‘Alternately crying out and laughing with glee

It’s what we do here when we get a bump on the knee’.

 

‘How do I escape and get back to my town?

I’m tired of it here hanging upside down.’

‘You are a long way from home and you will leave us soon

Helped by Ted Platypus’ band and their strange kind of tune

Take in the music; let it be your guide

Wolfy Peter is the one you must avoid.’

 

Skee bob a dee skidee diddle pop pup

Mimmie now found herself the right way up

Sku da da doo be be diddle be beeves

She could see the whole forest from her tower of leaves

The music now echoed it sounded distant and lost

Her foothold of leaves turned to a carpet of moss.

 

A brief relief -The forest floor once more.

A mossy green carpet now what else was in store?

She looked straight ahead as far as the eye could see

Either side of the moss was bird-filled tree after tree.

Down the long wooden hallway Miss McMacken did proceed

 Amid pictures of foxes wearing flat caps and tweed.

 

She had not gone far down this long mossy hall

When she saw a fox move, they were not pictures at all!

For out of the frame stepped Buck Beaudechord

A foxy old gent with the air of a Lord.

‘Why welcome dear girl to my pathway most pleasant

Once strode on by the king of Chiam, he’s a pheasant.’

 

‘Your pathway is lovely and the trees are most pretty

But I must avoid Wolfy Peter and get back to my city.’

‘Wolfy Peter!’ Gasped Buck with shock in his eyes

His face turned to fear and then to surprise.

‘You must take extra care for he is hairy and scary

I must jump back in my frame now but here is a fairy…’

 

With a flash Beaudechord was a picture once more

From a clearing came a fairy riding a large boar

‘Hello there my child’, came the fairy’s soothing tone

‘I am here to assist you in finding your way home’.

‘I can tell what you want and I know what you need

Alan Finn will guide you, he is my trusty steed’.

 

 ‘He knows the whole forest, every twig, every snap

And if he were to get lost he has a map in his cap.

Now you must move quite quickly as we are losing the light

You must exit the forest before the day turns to night.’

Mimmie sat up on the jolly boars back

And off they set on the homeward track.

 

‘Your hair is so soft and so furry Alan Finn.’

‘That’s ‘cos I shampoo and condition and shampoo it again.’

They ran swiftly through the forest past plant, tree and hedge

 A sea of brown and green colours and then a sharp ledge.

Stopping he asked a mole conductor called Bill

If he could stand on the edge and jump from his hill.

 

Alan wished at that moment that he had learned to hang glide

As the molehill was a mountain from the opposite side.

During daylight his power was second to none

As his strength and agility came from the sun.

He leaped high in the air and headed for the forest floor

But when he landed he disappeared through a hidden trap door.

 

Mimmie flew through the air and to her utter surprise

She landed in a huge curtain filled with blue butterflies.

Turning and twisting she tried to find an escape

But became further entangled in the enormous drape.

Wriggling to freedom she fell into a dark room

With no photos in sight just a feeling of gloom.

 

From a distant corner she saw a flicker of light

A single candle to break up the darkness of night

Craning her neck she looked down the long hall

She heard chirping and bouncing. A bird playing with a ball?

Below the candle she could make out a figure on a barrel

‘The name’s Wolfy Peter’, came a voice with a snap and a snarl.

 

He emerged from the shadows with a long coat and hood

Mimmie wanted to run if only she could.

‘W-what do you want?’, asked the girl all a-quiver.

‘Why I just want to talk’, he said, why do you shiver?

 ‘I was warned to avoid you and stay away from this cave.’

‘They were right’, rasped the wolf, ‘I want to make you my slave!’

 

For some reason now Mimmie felt she knew what to say

The fear and the quivering it just went away.

‘I can help you’, she declared in a voice very brave

‘But you are never going to make me your slave.

You must be down here in the dark for many an age

Why don’t you just tell me the source of your rage?’

 

 The wolf was confused and looked down at the floor

No one had spoken to him this way before.

‘Alright’, began Peter, ‘I will tell you my story

 Involving a witch named Fruelhanna and her intent on glory.

I beat her kinsmen in a game of catching the plumbs

And in outrage she cast a spell on my thumbs.’

 

‘Now my thumbs they get smaller and smaller each year

I know pretty soon that they’ll just disappear.

I can’t catch, I can’t clutch, I can’t clench, I can’t clasp

No holding or gripping, I can’t even grasp.

No more days can I spent fishing out on the lake

She said there is just one cure, something called a fup fake.’

 

Mimmie listened to the story that the wolf had to tell

And believed that she could find a cure for the spell

‘She has a problem with her speech as far as I can see

She begins words with ‘F’ that should start with ‘C’.

So her name is Cruel Hanna and her other mistake

Is that the cure for this spell is in fact a cup cake.’

 

‘Where can we find one?’, Asked the wolf with some joy.

‘I will ask every animal, fish, frog and fly.

For this trick we just simply have to unlock it.’

Just then Mimmie remembered the crumbs in her pocket.

‘Eat these if you please’ said the girl all aglow.

Straight away Wolfy Peters thumbs started to grow.   

 

‘Thank you so much I can grab things galore

Evil Wolfy Peter, he exists no more.’

Young Mimmie jumped into the drape in delight

Then woke in her bed, in the middle of the night.

All the characters were the toys in her room, then she blinked

As she was sure that the teddy Alan Finn had just winked!

Song of the Penguin

Penguin, penguin 1 2 3

Will you be a friend to me?

Penguin, penguin you can’t fly; 

You can’t fly and neither can I.

Penguin, penguin you live in the snow

In the frost and the ice 50 below.

Penguin you're a bird but you don’t live in trees

If you were to wear pants would you choose dungarees?

Penguin you waddle and swim every place

If you tried to fly you would fall and break your face.

Even though you're an Antarctic dweller

You never wear clothes whatever the weather.

Bird of ice, bird of snow,

Bird of nowhere else to go.

Does the penguin mind the snowy and icy things?

No. You get used of the cold when you've got small wings.

Penguin, penguin a definition please.

A bird of ice a bird of freeze,

Probably a bird that likes to sneeze.

A bird of the ground but not of the trees

And perhaps a lover of dungarees.

Penguin great at withstanding cold weather

Whether you're apart or huddled together.

Penguin you’re great at fishing and can swim like a torpedo

And you look very smart in your feathery tuxedo.

The Bubbly Lake

As I looked out across the lake

I was sure I made a big mistake

For in the water there were some troubles

The lake it seemed was making bubbles.

I know that I am a land lubber

But I’m sure that duck just turned to rubber.

The lake, the lake, a bubbly lake

That drake is rubber, no mistake.

A crowd arrives to stare and point

It would make a great bath for a giant.