Hope you all are keeping well on this first wednesday of the year. Now far be it from me to start putting limitations on you and telling you what you can and can't do in this year of possibility and promise. However there is just one small thing I'd like to make you aware of:
.
A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your dragon to the fish bait shop
.
Don't bring your dragon to the fish bait shop
I think you'd find it quite the flop
as outings go. He'd soon say "Stop,
remind me why we came here?"
.
Flying Lizards aren't impressed by vats of maggots
Doesn't matter how well you dress or flag it
Not even preceded with a good glass of bragget
Your dragon will not find good cheer
.
Yes he'd rather face a witches cackle
or take on a swarm of swooping grackle
anything but look at all that fishing tackle
he'd find the hooks terribly severe
.
He'd find the worms all squirmy and yuck
In the one place where his fire breathing would suck
cos of flammable flies, you'd feel like a schmuck
No fish bait shop for your dragon today
Monday, January 10, 2011
Owl to the Cinema
So I missed the bus again this week, can't keep on top of things at all amidst all the festivities, here's my weekly offering of sage wisdom at least, to try and help ye on ye're way...
A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Owl to the Cinema
.
Don't bring your owl to the cinema house
Inclusion is something I'd mostly espouse
But he'd spend all the time combing dark for a mouse
Feeling round with his mean filoplumes
.
He'd spill all the popcorn on floors made of dralon
and mess up your hair so you'd soon need a salon
all in his effort to spruce up his left talon
Oh he'd only disrupt all the rooms
.
He'd find Harry Potter far too disconcerting
As Snowy old Hedwig is always exerting
such charisma, your owl'd soon be asserting
"That's movies, all airbrushed!" - what glooms!
.
So better avoid it, you and your little hooter
Prove to him for once that you're no cold up-rooter
and you won't see the flicks, you're no nacho looter
No cinema for your Owl today
A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Owl to the Cinema
.
Don't bring your owl to the cinema house
Inclusion is something I'd mostly espouse
But he'd spend all the time combing dark for a mouse
Feeling round with his mean filoplumes
.
He'd spill all the popcorn on floors made of dralon
and mess up your hair so you'd soon need a salon
all in his effort to spruce up his left talon
Oh he'd only disrupt all the rooms
.
He'd find Harry Potter far too disconcerting
As Snowy old Hedwig is always exerting
such charisma, your owl'd soon be asserting
"That's movies, all airbrushed!" - what glooms!
.
So better avoid it, you and your little hooter
Prove to him for once that you're no cold up-rooter
and you won't see the flicks, you're no nacho looter
No cinema for your Owl today
Aye Aye to McDonald's
At Kat's request I had a lot of googling and wikipedia looking up to get things that made sense and rhymed for this one...
Consider it your Christmas Present!!!
.
A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Aye Aye to McDonald's
.
Don't bring your Aye Aye to McDonald's
No matter how he fondly fondled
your hands, your hair, or how he has hondled*
he's still for that place so unsuitable
.
You know yourself this fiendish rogue'll
only be scoffing the big macs, his brogue'll
spellbind the poor servers, can't you just see him ogle
the menu, list' my theory's most mootable
.
For wee pointing Monkeys are way way too creepy
they'll want coffee mc flurries and claim that they're sleepy
so forget it, you know he'd leave you all weepy
as Ronald would find him out-bootable
.
And don't forget that this guy has got him a sorta
bad name as the type that'd puncture an aorta
so unless you want a visit from the Goddess called Morta
No McDonald's for your Aye-Aye today
.
* this is really a word, it means to haggle.
Consider it your Christmas Present!!!
.
A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your Aye Aye to McDonald's
.
Don't bring your Aye Aye to McDonald's
No matter how he fondly fondled
your hands, your hair, or how he has hondled*
he's still for that place so unsuitable
.
You know yourself this fiendish rogue'll
only be scoffing the big macs, his brogue'll
spellbind the poor servers, can't you just see him ogle
the menu, list' my theory's most mootable
.
For wee pointing Monkeys are way way too creepy
they'll want coffee mc flurries and claim that they're sleepy
so forget it, you know he'd leave you all weepy
as Ronald would find him out-bootable
.
And don't forget that this guy has got him a sorta
bad name as the type that'd puncture an aorta
so unless you want a visit from the Goddess called Morta
No McDonald's for your Aye-Aye today
.
* this is really a word, it means to haggle.
Hairy fly to the Launderette
It's still not in a shop, but it is a poem at least. Hope all hairy fly owners are listening up!
A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your hairy fly to the launderette
Don't bring your hairy fly to the launderette
Twould be worse than the time that he came to the vet
Oh he doesn't like soap sudz, can't stand getting wet
Trust me, leave home this diptera terrible
He'd regress to a larva, would cause quite a mess
Would pick threads off the linens and wouldn't confess
Would cause all sorts of mayhem, both some you could guess
and some that would be un-infer-able
And if they start ironing he'd lose his antennae
Oh, his problems would be too vast, and so many
He'd have to walk on the ground not float like Pat Kenny
for his wings would get pressed, how unbearable!
Tell your fly, better stay home washing his hairs
in the normal fly way, with his legs, and who cares
he can sit instead on a tray of eclairs
No Launderette for your hairy fly today
A Poem which attempts to dissuade you from bringing your hairy fly to the launderette
Don't bring your hairy fly to the launderette
Twould be worse than the time that he came to the vet
Oh he doesn't like soap sudz, can't stand getting wet
Trust me, leave home this diptera terrible
He'd regress to a larva, would cause quite a mess
Would pick threads off the linens and wouldn't confess
Would cause all sorts of mayhem, both some you could guess
and some that would be un-infer-able
And if they start ironing he'd lose his antennae
Oh, his problems would be too vast, and so many
He'd have to walk on the ground not float like Pat Kenny
for his wings would get pressed, how unbearable!
Tell your fly, better stay home washing his hairs
in the normal fly way, with his legs, and who cares
he can sit instead on a tray of eclairs
No Launderette for your hairy fly today
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