Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Thorny Oyster to Next

There's no cuts on Wednesday fun here at Various Cushions land, though it's a little slower off the mark than usual - this week's poem is particularly heart felt and difficult to read. I'm only giving a warning in case Mollusc lovers would prefer to sit down before reading...

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Thorny Oyster to Next

Don't bring your Thorny Oysters to Next
For if you do, you'll end up vexed
They're far too slimy, too over-sexed
Too calcified for high fashion

You'll find nothing there to dress your bivalves
3/4 length pants go way past their calves
the top and the bottoms are too big for both halves
You'd be in for a molluscy ear bashin

You mightn't usually be an advice heeder
but this once try to tame this colorless bleeder
Do you need to hear it from a proper news reader?
Anne Doyle shares my take, there's no clashin

No, don't take a chance with this pearly seductor
he'd laugh at the scallop tops, quite the destructor
of confidence, don't let him work that adductor
No Next for your Thorny Oyster today

Tree Frog to Bed, Bath and Beyond

This one was in part inspired by Picasso over at Elizabeth's blog - see that post here.

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Tree Frog to Bed, Bath and Beyond

Don't bring your Tree Frog to Bed, Bath and Beyond
Though he might say of that shop, he's rather fond
Don't believe him, no please do not be conned
His real motive is far more sinister

Tree Frogs dream from when they're little tadpoles
Of fulfilling a seriously villainous role
They're not to be trusted, oh, won't you be told!
He'll lie even more than a minister

"I just want some bath pearls" he'll tell you, straight-faced
Then he'll hop to the showers, hot water to waste
Sucky pads help him climb up, the whole place he'll have cased
And get you into trouble with him mister

No, sadly you can't trust this little amphibian
Tho his eyes look all genuine, voice purer than Rhydian
If he begs "Will you bring me" tell him "You must be kiddyin"
No Bed, Bath and Beyond for your Tree Frog today!

Don't forget today is officially the first day of IPYPIASM - see yesterday's post if you missed it. I will update as the poems get placed!!!

Camel to Specsavers

I know, in this day and age, it's hard being a Camel owner, trying to guess the rights and wrongs of their care, afterall - they don't come with a manual - here is a small piece of advice, for those who are seeking it.

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Camel to Specsavers

Don't bring your camel to spec savers

You know he's not the best behaver

He's a diva, this ungulate, attention craver

He spits in the eye of opticians


His hooves are no good for handling contacts

He frowns at the sunglasses, chomps like a mastax

left loose on a rotifiers lunch, always detracts

from the mood in that home of good vision


He won't like the opthalmascope, it'll soon make him grump

He'll complain of the tonometer, call the whole place a dump

And forgive the pun here, but he will get the hump

He'll cause dents in the fence with allision


Your sweet dromedary wouldn't say "This is class"

engulfed not in sand, but with frameworks of glass

So better leave him at home, leave his whole biomass

No Specsavers for your Camel today

Elephant to the Dáil

A word of warning.....

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Elephant to the Dáil

Don't bring your Elephant to the Dáil

I don't care if he likes Labour, Greens, or Fianna Fáil,

He wouldn't fit in there at all, 't all, at all

No he wouldn't fit in the Oireachtas

He'd be sure to annoy the poor aul Cheann Chomhairle

He wouldn't sit still, go to sleep, like them all, yeah

He'd be sure to vote wrong, then have to call ye

And say, "We did our best and they mocked us"

Yes, you'll soon find your Ivory toothed friend

is prone to the Royal "we" which no end

annoys all the politicians, who tend

to find trunks more inclined to get blocked, thus

There'd be so many problems, no bail out could solve

so pack him his trunks, tell him better evolve

get on with his life, cos you won't be involved

No Dáil for your elephant today

Tapeworm to Yamamori

With apologies to Noodle lovers everywhere....

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Tapeworm to Yamamori *
Don't bring your tapeworm to Yamamori
He'd end up feeling grey and hoary
The staff would shout "HEY! what's the story?"
Twould be just like dynamite
For Tapeworms don't like Japaneses
Preferring to ask politicians for cheeses
Or watch Ben Hur, the Passion, anything about Jesus
They'd watch those old films all night
But tapeworms don't have table manners
they're much maligned by wedding planners
and their scolex look like a bag full of spanners
no, keep home this bold parasite
He wouldn't be able to get chopsticks to work
And if he fell in with the noodles, he'd surely lurk
And no one could save him from a chef gone berserk
No Yamamori for your Tapeworm today

*Yamamori Noodles are a very popular and lovely chain of Japanese style restaurants around Dubland, for the international amongst you readers.

Yellow Bittern to the Off Licence

Ah yes, tis time for this collection in progress to take on the more serious themes, and indeed carve out its niche in the canon of Irish Literature - taking inspiration from its forebearers, standing on the shoulders of giants etc etc.

With all this in mind I give you

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Yellow Bittern to the Off Licence
Don't bring your Yellow Bittern to the Off Licence
I don't care if he offers you tuppence or Thripence
To bring him, listen to me, for this is my sense
The idea would be so far from sensible
Despite all the drink there he'd still end up parched
For it's only bog water that gets him on the march
Or he'd maybe eat reeds for his fix of some starch
No, vodka would leave him distensible
He'd nest in the peanuts and skulk round the cans
Oh he wouldn't pick up for you too many fans
This chestnut necked bird would disrupt all your plans
Your drinks order incomprehensible
Oh leave him alone, leave him down by the shore
Don't give him a shot, or a glass, oh no more
for this flyer would be left all hungover and sore
No Off Licence for your Yellow Bittern today

Background and academic notes:

The last time a poem of this beauty and originality referring to the yellow bittern bird was written would have been between the 17th and 18th Century in Ireland when Cathal Buí Mac Giolla Ghunna (more on him here) wrote his effort on the poor Bittern, an Bonnán Buí, who died of thirst, which resolved the poet to never let himself get thirsty again. The below is Seamus Heaney's translation, one of many.

By Seamus Heaney
(Translated from An Bonnán Buí in the Irish
of Cathal Buí Mac Giolla Ghunna)

Yellow bittern, there you are now,
Skin and bone on the frozen shore.
It wasn’t hunger but thirst for a mouthful
That left you foundered and me heartsore.
What odds is it now about Troy’s destruction
With you on the flagstones upside down,
Who never injured or hurt a creature
And preferred bog water to any wine?

Bittern, bittern, your end was awful,
Your perished skull there on the road,
You that would call me every morning
With your gargler’s song as you guzzled mud.
And that’s what’s ahead of your brother Cathal
(You know what they say about me and the stuff)
But they’ve got it wrong and the truth is simple:
A drop would have saved that croaker’s life.

I am saddened, bittern, and broken hearted
To find you in scrags in the rushy tufts,
And the big rats scampering down the rat paths
To wake your carcass and have their fun.
If you could have got word to me in time, bird,
That you were in trouble and craved a sup,
I’d have struck the fetters of those lough waters
And wet your thrapple with the blow I struck.

Your common birds do not concern me,
The blackbird, say, or the thrush or crane,
But the yellow bittern, my heartsome namesake
With my looks and locks, he’s the one I mourn.
Constantly he was drinking, drinking,
And by all accounts I’ve a name for it too,
But every drop I get I’ll sink it
For fear I might get my end from drouth.

The woman I love says to give it up now
Or else I’ll go to an early grave,
But I say no and keep resisting
For taking drink’s what prolongs your days.
You saw for yourself a while ago
What happened to the bird when its throat went dry;
So my friends and neighbours, let it flow:
You’ll be stood no rounds in eternity.

And here's the original - now sung as a Sean Nós number, with a mournful tune in most versions that I've heard of... you'll find it too on youtube, if you care.

An Bonnán Buí

A bhonnán bhuí, is é mo léan do luí,
Is do chnámha sínte tar éis do ghrinn,
Is chan easba bidh ach díobháil dí
a d'fhág i do luí thú ar chúl do chinn.
Is measa liom féin ná scrios na Traoi
Tú bheith i do luí ar leaca lom',
Is nach ndearna tú díth ná dolaidh sa tír,
Is nárbh fhearra leat fíon ná uisce poll.

A bhonnáin álainn, is é mo mhíle crá thú,
Do chúl ar lár amuigh romham sa tslí,
Is gurbh iomaí lá a chluininn do ghrág
Ar an láib is tú ag ól na dí.
Is é an ní a deir cách le do dheartháir Cáthal,
Go bhfaighidh sé bás mar siúd, más fíor,
Ach ní hamhlaidh atá, siúd an préachán breá
Chuaigh in éag ar ball le díth na dí.

A bhonnáin óig, is é mo mhíle brón
Thú bheith sínte fuar i measc na dtom,
Is na luchaí móra ag triall chun do thórraimh,
Ag déanamh spóirt agus pléisiúir ann;
Is dá gcuirfeá scéala in am faoi mo dhéinse
Go raibh tú i ngéibhinn, nó i mbroid fá dheoch,
Do bhrisfinn béim duit ar an loch úd Bhéasaigh
A fhliuchfadh do bhéal is do chorp isteach.

Ní hiad bhur n-éanlaith atá mé ag éagnach,
An lon, an smaolach, nó an chorr ghlas,
Ach mo bhonnán buí, bhí lán de chroí,
Is gur chosúil liom féin é ina ghné is ina dhath.
Bhíodh sé go síoraí ag ól na dí,
Is deir na daoine go mbímse mar sin seal;
Níl aon deor dá bhfaighinn nach ligfinn síos,
Ar eagla go bhfaighinnse bás den tart.

Is é a d'iarr mo stór orm ligint den ól,
Nó nach mbeinnse beo ach seal beag gearr;
Ach dúirt mé léithi go dtug sí an bhréag,
Is gurbh fhaide mo shaolsa an deoch úd a fháil.
Nach bhfaiceann sibh éan an phíobáin réidh
A chuaigh in éag den tart ar ball;
Is a chomharsain chléibh, fliuchaíg bhur mbéal
Óir chan fhaigheann sibh braon i ndiaidh bhur mbáis.

Iguana to Apache Pizza

Like Monday's romantic poem - this one has special resonance for me, Apache Pizza being the site of Mr VC and I's second date. No wonder I was smitten

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Iguana to Apache Pizza*
Don't-a bring your Iguana to Apache Pizza
It'll lose it's-a dewlap, get tomato on feets-a
This is one little-a lizard who can't take the heats-a
Better tell-a him now, you-a better not yeild
They won't sell him wine there - mixed or varietal
And the staff there won't discuss no problems societal
He's as well watching TV through his eye that's parietal
Or to blend with the grass in the field
And Iguana's are rarely served nice pepperoni
So your little fella will likely get moany
No he doesn't live there, níl sé ina chónaí **
Apache yells hurt his subtympanic shield
So tell your Iguana, it'd just hurt his gizzard
Twould be less fun than meeting a tired Eddie Izzard
He's not like a turtle, it's home for this lizard
No Apache Pizza for your Iguana today
* Pizza place in Dublin City Centre
** He is not resident...

Parrot to knobs and knockers

Oh, I've been terrible lazy of late... Anyway, looking forward to Joan's Book Launch tonight - eloquently introduced over here. (not by myself needless to say - eloquence, and anything else that calls for a scintilla of energy is far beyond my grasp just now)

In other news - hope you will enjoy the following -

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your parrot to knobs and knockers
Don't bring your parrot to knobs and knockers
the name alone is bound to shock her
and asides from that she'd loose her flock her
sense of direction would be all distorted
While the shiny door handles might be sure to excite her
and the songs of the various doorbells delight her
I've no doubt the knocking on doors would just fright her
She'd lose all the colour she'd sported
She'd peck at the letterbox, imitate all the doorbells
No the staff wouldn't be under her feathery spell
They'd get her down from her roost and send her to hell
Such a terrible mess you'd have courted
So sit Polly down, tell her she must be crackers
if she insists on looking at claxons and clackers
Tell her you will not bring her, and no one will back her
No Knobs and Knockers for your Parrot today
See here for more on the wonderfully named knobs and knockers emporium

Laptop to the swimming pool

A common sense kinda poem, providing evidence for and removing all doubt on the theory that laptops should not be brought swimming

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your laptop to the swimming pool
Don't bring your laptop to the swimming pool
I know it can cope with a modicom of drool
while you snooze writing blog posts, but don't be a fool
You'd soon be ejected by life gaurds
For logging on in the deeps or the shallow
you'd find your notebook as bad as a mallow
for sites, no matter how worshipped or hallowed
would be blurred by the chlorine so hard
Yes laptops have no place 'mong swimmers
They won't float or slide, won't sparkle or shimmer
they'll sink like a stone with their damp damaged inner
and the LCD shattered and charred
So put your laptop on hibernate
Don't care if your best friend says it'd be great
Put it away before swimming, today's not the date
No Swimming Pool for your laptop today

Hummingbird to Starbucks

You would have thought that a serious allergy to thinking that has recently developed in me and may be all too clear to my astutest readers would cause me to give up my regular date with delight that is the weekly poem to dissuade. Yet I know how much you all yearn for it, live for it, how it lifts your little hearts, brings you joy, and makes you feel like the world is a better place for its advice. And so I soldier on for at least one more week - any brain power I once had - replaced by italics in an attempt to make it look all highbrow... I give you....
A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your hummingbird to Starbucks
Don't bring your hummingbird to Starbucks
Not in cool trainplanes or warm cartrucks
You'd find out soon your plan by far sucks
Leave him at home being minded by Hector
Your flash little bird that can fly in reverse
Would soon find that a visit there would be cursed
I don't care if it means that you need to be terse
For your sins you can go see the Rector*
For Hummingbirds can't drink Cappucinos
Not with an old man, not with a bambino
There's not much for protein, not a single amino
and there's no syrup flavoured like nectar
Yes, you'll find his metabolism is quite fast enough
and another dose of caffeine would be just too rough
you could bring in your robin, your wren or your chough
but no Starbucks for your hummingbird today

* or other religious type guide of your choice

Poet to the Meat Processor

Bet ye thought I'd forgotten... never!



A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Poet to the Meat Processor


Don’t bring your Poet to the Meat Processor

Not unless you want to obsess her

With blood yukky guts yukky gore, oh god bless her

What can I say to convince you


She’d write sonnets on tumblers, would rhyme at the trimmers

There’d be no end of trouble as she’d rip through the inners

And mourn for the animals, write odes for the sinners

Would sharpen noun knives with verb flints, ooh


She’d be so unkind would go endlessly quoting

Animal loving poets to the workers while noting

The scent of the blood and the decorous coatings

If you try to obstruct her she’ll mince you


For it’s a well known fact that all poets are vegans

And this is why too, quite a lot are Galwegian

They’d go ape in a meat plant, so don’t risk a lesion

No Meat Processor for your Poet today




Moth to the Winding Stair

This week's poem to dissuade is a purpose built one. I am reading tomorrow night at the Winding Stair for the launch of the Moth magazine. The Winding Stair is a very famous and lovely book shop (though I've only been in it once, and felt a wee bit intimidated by the fact that I couldn't spot the staircase - no doubt now that I'll be reading there, they'll show me the staircase, give me a key to it or some such).

Anyways - very much looking forward to it, mean while here's the poem. Let me know if I should read it out or not, or come along tomorrow night and tell me yourself

btw - the infra red frequency that candle flames emit has been found to contain similar frequency to that emitted by female moth pheromones

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Moth to the Winding Stair


Don't bring your moth to the winding stair

He’d find the lights too blinding there

He doesn’t delight in finding rare

Books, he’d just flit through the bookies


No, moths can't seem to camoflage

among the assorted bricolage

in this sacred home of books, no courage

would be enough, no cookie


Your moth can't read by candle light

better keep hold of that door handle tight

This butterfly ancestor would amble right

into flames that remind him of nookie


So tell your moth he'll have to be patient

It's not that you're lazy, nor are you complacent

but this lovely shop's not for your fluttering agent

No winding stair for your moth today

Pigeon to Douglas Newman Good

This week's purpose built glory is definitely going to be read aloud. Tonight, upstairs at Douglas Newman Good, in Lucan village. Lucan Writers and some very esteemed guests (including Eamonn Lynskey, Oran Ryan, Alma Braydon, Raven, and others) will be reading there as part of Lucan Festival. So do be there to cheer us on if you can....

DNG is an estate agents for those who don't live in the area.

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your pigeon to Douglas Newman Good


Don’t bring your pigeon to Douglas Newman Good

He wouldn’t behave like a good pigeon should

He’d home in on the staff, say he misunderstood

The request not to act omnipotent


He’d not be fancied, it would not be terrific

To hear him a cooing at auction, horrific

To see him scratch ads from billboards, dolorific,

Oh t’would be quite the trial, quite the torment


No the real estate agent’s no place for a pigeon

He’d nest in the rafters, if you’ve any smidgeon

Of sense you’ll agree this is no tough decision

Stay at home with your grey flying rodent


I couldn’t care less if he has a ring round his ankle

If his wings are powered by an engine called wankel

No matter the trouble, the pain or the rankle

No Douglas Newman Good for your pigeon today

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Koala to Liffey Sound*

Advice for Spiderman who, in the above shot, is contemplating where he should and shouldn't bring his Koala Bear. (photo is missing because I'm too lazy to paste it over from the other blog)

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Koala to Liffey Sound*


Don't bring your koala to Liffey Sound

There's little eucalyptus enough to be found

without him eating through it, he'd be browned

off with the community station


He'd be so unfit, your dodgy marsupial

he'd want to go pirate, just like a troupial**

Oh twould be very painful, even worse than rupial***

Listen there's no invitation


For teddy bears disguised with pouches

They're far better off hanging out on couches

He'd nibble the microphone, cause so much ouches

Don't let him enact desperation


Koala BEARS are far too clingy

for broadcasting, wouldn't be very singy

Tell him go way on a boat, a ship or a dingy

but no Liffey Sound for your Koala today


*Liffey Sound is a local radio station in Lucan for anyone who hasn't heard of it - hot debate on the classification of koala bears can be found here. http://sundayscrapbook.blogspot.com - in Triona Walsh's show

**Troupial is a bird that specialises in pirating nests - ie pushing out other birds

*** Rupial is a skin disease occuring specially in tertiary syphilis

Wildebeest to Waterstones

Tis about that time of the week - this is for all those bewildered beasts out there

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Wildebeest to Waterstones

Don't bring your wildebeest to waterstones

no excuses, don't tell me you thought her at home,

even smoothing her coat with a much tauter comb

still won't make her, for that place, presentable


Yes posh book shops are no place for your antelope

She'd hoove through the humour books, you're no man to cope

with an angry migrator browsing travel, can't hope

for her to settle down, she's just not contentable


when she'd find there's no pasture in the gardening section

she'd herd with the readers, there'd be such invection

from staff, for bad gnus* there's no affection

in that place, oh twould be most lamentable


So try and get your Wildebeest to distinguish

between serengeti plains and this temple of English

tell her it's against your most pressing wish

No Waterstones for your Wildebeest today

*thanks/ blame to Titus for this pun

Púca to Poulaphouca

This week's poem of dissuasion is another unusual one in that it does not relate to an animal or a place of business, yet when Total Feckin Eejit puts in a special request you can assume there's a very good reason for it, so here it is:

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Púca to Poulaphouca
Don't bring your Púca to Poulaphouca
Twould be dangerouser than sittin atop a bazooka
you're no prize fighter, or spirit palooka
so please do not take that venture
for your little púca's no reservoir rat
though he's a shape shifter no doubt of that
if you went to go camping, he'd make off with your mat
if you climbed cliffs he'd cut the rudenture
the mischievious thing would pretend to drown
king, princess or queen, no matter the crown
he'd advise you all things, and yet act the clown
oh, he'd certainly raise your calenture
for mythish named villages are no place for ghosties
he's better stay home, better make the mostie
of life on his own, maybe eat a cheese toastie
but no Poulaphouca for your Púca today

Capuchin Monkey to Woodies

These Wednesday's are rolling around faster than any other day of the week, I don't care what anyone tell's ya...

Here is yet another one of my meticulously researched and pulchritudiously presented poems which attempt to dissuade you from bringing various life forms to various places (preferably places of business) - Wildebeests in Waterstones, and Púcas in Poulaphouca - coming up in due course....

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Capuchin Monkey to Woodies

Don't bring your Capuchin Monkey to Woodies

He doesn't need brass knobs or rings, and nor should he -

arborial living doesn't need DIY goodies

So tell him his tears he must quench


This fiendishly clever tool using monkey*

wouldn't waste any time investing in clunky

aul fixtures and fittings, it wouldn't be funky

Let him know he's being left on the bench


No he can't have a lawnmower, a mallet or drill

He can't feast on the nuts, can't go in and spill

all the paint, on the window that's meant for the sill

and there'll be no chance of a monkey wrench


For Capuchin Monkeys don't know how to behave

on the decking and fences it'd be very grave

when they'd chew on the edges, you couldn't be saved

No Woodies for your Capuchin Monkey today

*Capuchin Monkeys are one of the first monkeys known to have used tools.

Tonight I'm reading "A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Geranium to Boots" at a very special Joycean Chemist based event... there's only room for 20 people at it, including performers, so I didn't advertise too heavily here, but hope you'll all come along in spirit.

Leveret to Haagen Daz

Well, you know me of a wednesday, I just can't seem to let one go by without adding to the mischievious pile of poems that continue to try to dissuade you from bringing increasingly obscure types of animals and plants to sometimes non existant places of business. Bearing this in mind, at the behest of Dublin Dave, I give you

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Leveret to Haagen Daz

Don't bring your Leveret to Haagen Daz
He's better off outside chewing on grass
Just ignore his squeals, I know it sounds crass
but this time it can't be avoided

A Leveret wouldn't understand the decorum
he's impatient in ordering, it's just not the forum
for him, listen up, you don't need a quorum
on this one, you'd be soon unemployed, it

might seem extreme, but you know his long ear
would get lost in pistachio, and his fluffy rear
could be whipped for vanilla, no don't let him near
Say that you'd be completely annoyed, it

might seem unfair, he might cry for strawberry
squeal for a sorbet, demand something dairy
but when he asks if you're sure he can't go, tell him "Very"
No Haagen Daz for your Leveret today

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Duck billed platypus to Spar

Well, I couldn't let another wednesday go by without providing guidance for conscientious pet owners out there, who really need to know where not to bring their duck billed platypii, this is especially for Domestic Oubliette, who posed the question...

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your duck billed platypus to Spar

Don't bring your duck billed platypus to Spar

That trip, I'm afraid wouldn't get you too far,

With his unrealistic body, he's a freak not a star,

No, I wouldn't even attempt it

This flat footed friend has no need for a sambo

So there's no excuse for him to go in playing Rambo

Demanding nice biscuits, overpriced cans, No!

All your spare change, he'd have spent it

Sure remember the time that you took platypus

Over the one time to see 'toys R us'

and he said it was too bright, made such a fuss

Oh you wouldn't mind, only he meant it

So tell the platypus to shut his bill

It's not really that you'd wish him ill

But he might as well go waddle up the hill

No Spar for your duck billed platypus today

Hedgehog to the Euro shop

Firstly, don't forget to relook at the bus if the inclination takes you, some new passengers still arriving.

And now for a public service announcement... It is a question that needed to be answered and meticulous research has resulted in the following answer.

With thanks to Dublin Dave for posing the question

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your hedgehog to the Euro shop

Don't bring your hedgehog to the Euro Shop

If I saw you going in, I'd call out "Stop!!!"

It's patently obvious, better use some of your cop

on and don't, with this plan, be persisting

Just think of the soap salts, the toys and the trinkets

Your spiny backed fella would surely just think it's

an excuse to see how many small things he could sink, it

would be the worst thing since a bee sting

No, Euro shops are no places for hedgehogs

they'd curl up in a ball amongst pale rubber frogs

would nest in the mops, would eat cheap christmas logs

better off, if you can, keep resisting

And if hedgehog Bernard, that jewel of the night

insists he should go, tell him he'll sooner acquire flight

cos he ain't getting near it, no way in this life

no Euro shop for your hedgehog today

Badger to Abrakedabra

Ah yes, an extremely busy week here in various cushions land, we are multitasking, driving the bus with one hand (instructions on the previous post), and writing poems to dispense advice to people who might otherwise be tempted to bring various life forms to various places of commerce...

This week Matt Bolton of Matt Bolton's World View fame has asked whether there is anywhere he should not bring his pet badger.

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Badger to Abrakedabra

Don’t bring your badger to abrakedabra

I don't care how much the idea grabs ya

Or how many bottles of beer you've had, yeah

It still would certainly not be brillo

He wouldn't sit quietly, he's simply not able

He'd be looking for "setts" under the table

Would spill all his chips, would be worse than a sable

no it wouldn't be wind in the willows

And someone would surely bring up trichinosis

Or mention that he has the worst halitosis

He'd grip them with a tenacious grip, oh no, Sis

Better leave him below with his pillows

For Abrakedabra's no place for a badger

The jedward signs would make him madder

than normal, a kebab he would try to cadger

No abrakedra for your badger today

(the variety in font size is for purely poetical reasons, not that blogger won't co-operate, I'm practically a professional you know)

Flamingo to Land of Leather

Here's another one of those weekly wise pieces of advice for naive pet owners who might otherwise make a terrible mistake.

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Flamingo to Land of Leather

Don’t bring your flamingo to land of leather
I don’t care how she flaps and flutters pink feathers
You should close the door, blame it on the weather
For anything else would be foolish

She’d only go crazy on the sofa start nesting
Go mental on beds, when she says she was resting
on one leg, there'd be no trip so testing
You should listen to me as a rule-ish

Yes Land of Leather's not for your Flamingo,
She'd have better luck with a half house in bingo
or admiring posters of george, paul or ringo
so please don't take the risk, don’t be mulish

Just tell your flamingo she’ll have to flock off
She’d be better off roosting, she’d better clock off
She’d only end up with a fake leather knock off
No Land of Leather for your flamingo today

Giraffe to Black Tie

So - although I'm not back from the mad adventure yet, another poem which attempts to dissuade you, in a world of reckless abandonment and permissiveness, please don't...

I'll be back tonight really in real life if all goes to plan!

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Giraffe to Black Tie

Don't bring your Giraffe into Black Tie,
the staff would heave a massive sigh,
when they measure and find the neck doesn't comply,
with normal physiological laws

Yes this oversized, gentle ruminant,
has no business looking at pinstriped pants,
and suits with bowties, he simply can't
carry off that look, better pause

I don't care if he gives a response flehmen,
when eyeing the cufflinks, don't forget he's no shamen,
knows no more about clothes, than the average layman,
watch out for his galloping jaws

If you bring him there he'll only start necking,
he'll lick at the cufflinks, you'd have to keep checking
for damaged cravats, he's better off trekking,
no Black Tie for your Giraffe today.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Jellyfish to Homebase

Another in the series of poems which attempt to dissuade you from bringing various forms of living things to various places of business. I'm posting a day earlier than normal because I'm away on a mad adventure for the rest of the week and well into next week and all the rest of this weeks' posts will actually be prewritten things that are going to be posted up at scheduled times even though I won't be here to see your reactions, ain't technology mad tho!
This weeks' effort was prompted by Emerging Writer's comment on her Diva's at the Body & Soul Festival post...

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Jellyfish to Homebase

Don't bring your jellyfish to Homebase
I don't care if he asks you with exquisite grace
or threatens to sting you, I don't want to see your face
with him tucked under your arm there.

Don't let him convince you he's that fastidious
and wants a new shower curtain less hideous
than what you have, he's not even amphibious
which means he'll feel fairly alarmed there

Yes homebase is no place for your boneless wonder
he'd be sure to tear the displays all asunder
while searching for aquarium toys, what a blunder
it'd be, he'd lose every charm there

So sit him down and rub his belly
Tell him it's not just because he's smelly
there's just too many sharp things there for a jelly
No homebase for your jellyfish today

Geranium to Boots

This week in the bewilderingly popular weekly series of "Poems which attempt to dissuade you from bringing your various animals to various places of commerce" I am taking a departure from the norm, and trying to convince you not to bring your *Geranium to # Boots - NOTES: *a Geranium is in fact a plant - not an animal (for the floratically faunatically challenged), # For those on the other side of the world Boots is a chemist on this side of the world that specialises in glossy beauty goods.
Anyway - by request of Don't Feed the Pixies - here it is...

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Geranium to Boots

Don't bring your Geranium to Boots
I don't care if he begs you from the base of his roots
all the way through his stem to the tips of his shoots
Listen to me or regret it

The shelves are stocked for horror there
for plants, seeing cousins dead for health care
Rose extract for showers, lavender bled for hair
He'd never forgive or forget it

Yes beauty shops are no place for geraniums
You better get this through your thickened cranium
for your beloved plant, twould be worse than uranium
Keep him away and don't ever let it

be the cause of him going off his water
let him stay up all night watching Ryan's daughter
Whatever it takes, don't let him witness the slaughter
No Boots for your Geranium today

Ant to Carphone Warehouse

Another in the ever popular weekly series of silly poems attempting to dissuade you from bringing various animals to various places of commerce. We also accept commissions.

A poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Ant to Carphone Warehouse

Don't bring your Ant to Carphone Warehouse
He'd be sure to think you're quite the rare louse
If you brought him to such a bare house
He'd never forgive you, no way

There's no picnics to pilfer for your little critter
no crumbs between phones, he'd mistake all the glitter
and would be awful upset when it turns out to be bitter
to taste, oh, he'd be so dismayed

They're a social animal this 6 legged arthropod,
But make no mistake, a wink's good as a nod
Don't need electronics to talk to their squad
Phone shops are no place for Formicidae

So be sure to leave your ant at home
And I don't mean the one married to Uncle Eoin
Their antennae are safer away from the phones
No carphone warehouse for your ant today

Lobster to Monsoon

Another in the popular series of poems which attempt to dissuade you from bringing various types of house-hold animals to various public places

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your lobster to Monsoon

Don't bring your lobster to Monsoon
Don't care if he says there's plenty room
I assure you, you'd be quite the loon
if you brought him in a hurry

He'd soon discover it was a mistake
when instead of seeing friends like the cod and the hake
he'd find flowing robes but no wavy lakes
it'd be quite the shock, quite the blur he

wouldn't find rain coming down as he'd hoped
There'd be no drops of water, I don't think he'd cope
He'd be sad as a turtle would sit there and mope
his claws caught on garments all furry

Yes women's clothing's no place for lobsters
He'd be better off becoming a mobster
at least then you wouldn't hear him sob sir
no monsoon for your lobster today

NOTE: This is written by someone who has just reached an awkward age, just today in fact. The awkwardness deriving from the fact that her age is now a prime number - after this it'll be another 6 years before such an awkward age hits again,,, but for now it's awkward...

Tarantula to Mothercare

Another in the popular series of poems that aim to dissuade you from bringing various types of animals to various types of shop...

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Tarantula to Mothercare

Don't bring your Tarantula to Mothercare
You'll find you'd be unwelcome there
with an 8 legged friend in a cover of hair
All the babies would be screamin

Baby shops are no place for tarantulas
They'd swing on the nappies, bite into the hulas
meant for teething babes, who're called things like Lula
and Jingo and Myrtle and Eminem

No, the webs of your charming pale faced arachnid
will not make a decorative lace for the kid
Nor will they stop the blinking back lids
of the prams comin up, as they flee 'im

I don't care if he pretends to be from Nepali
or Icelandic, or Belgian or even Bengali
There'll be no baby shops for this creepy crawly
No Mothercare for your Tarantula today

Budgie to Great Outdoors

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your budgie to Great Outdoors

Don't bring your budgie to Great Outdoors
Not if he begs you flat on all fours
or if he flaps, and shouts, and roars
don't give in to intimidation

Budgies offer no defence
will roost on the expensive tents
nest near the golf clubs, make little sense,
lead to no end of frustration

Don't think he won't peck at the canoes
or jump on trampolines, like an untrained goose
In the Great Outdoors shop, budgies are just no use
won't gain you any admiration

So tell the budgie it's no, not maybe
it's not that you're tired, or even lazy
but if he thinks you're bringin him, he must be crazy
no Great Outdoors (or Millets) for your budgie today

with thanks to Mr Titus for the commission

Fox to Iceland

Don’t bring your fox to Iceland
It wouldn’t be so nice and
He’d be better off in mice land
If such a place existed

There’d be no one to blame oh
I don’t mean to sound mean* No
Not the place with the volcano
The shop with the ice biscuits

Frozen food shops are no place for foxes
He’d want to bury the pizza boxes
Would sly his way through the chicken locks as
The cabinets all would be misted

Yes corn on the cob, or veggies, or meals
Foxes can howl all they want, can appeal
But they won’t change my mind on this one, no deal
No Iceland for your fox today

*mean – pronounced to rhyme with blame

with thanks to Titus for the commission

Ferret to Miss Selfridges *

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your ferret to Miss Selfridges *

Don't bring your ferret to Miss Selfridges
I know it may seem rather selfish-ish
but you'd be going against staff's best wishes
and you couldn't avoid his detection

Ferrets would target the cashmere sleeves
To hide in, staff would be so peeved
to find he's not part of the weave
he'd be quite the pest, an infection

Ferrets no matter how well groomed
are quite out of place in dressing rooms
and run the risk of being subsumed
into the summer all natural collection

So take the ferret and tell him straight
Sit him down, serve it on a plate
Do what you like, long as you stay away
with your ferret from Miss Selfridges, at least for today

* With thanks to Dublin Dave for the Commission

3 toed sloth to Dunnes

Back by popular demand - another in the series of

"Animals and Enterprises - what animal you shouldn't bring where and why"

A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your 3 toed sloth to Dunnes - with thanks to TFE for posing the question

Don’t bring your three toed sloth to Dunnes
He’d surely linger by the buns
Would get stuck on the sticky ones
It wouldn’t be good craic

He’d want to eat all the free samples
Through deli counters he’d slowly trample
And squash the fruit, his butt is ample
Before it’s too late turn back!

Yes sloths are worst in groceries
The choosiest choosers at the slowest speed
They only think of their own greed
When they browse the shopping racks

So tell the sloth he’ll have to wait
At home, or slowly at the gate
He’s not getting out there, no mistake
No Dunnes for your three toed sloth today

Cat to Easons

Don't bring your cat to Easons
There are a hundred reasons
why, no matter what the season
it would be a bad day out

He'd wee on all the papers
Want to play with all the staplers
would have such crazy capers
if you brought him there - no doubt

Yes cats aren't known as readers
they're better off as feeders
leave em home, leave em with Peter
rather than a shopping bout

So let em yowl and cry away
ask to see mice, promise they'll be ok
with computers and dice, tell them NO WAY
No Easons for your cat today

Easons is a stationary and book shop for those who mightn't be aware

Horse to Tesco

So, I didn't mean to feature "Tesco" coffee so prominently in yesterdays post picture, in response to that problem (because I think art should stay free of all corporate involvement) and because I kinda like this - here's

A Poem which aims to dissuade you from bringing your horse to Tesco

I'm removing this from here as it's found another home - the wonderful Caterpillar Magazine - !! Coming soon - more news of that on the various cushions blog shortly.