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John Lennon's "Good dog Nigel"
Baldrick's "The Guns"

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The King’s Breakfast
BY A. A. MILNE

The King asked
The Queen, and
The Queen asked
The Dairymaid:
“Could we have some butter for
The Royal slice of bread?”
The Queen asked
The Dairymaid,
The Dairymaid
Said, “Certainly,
I’ll go and tell
The cow
Now
Before she goes to bed.”

The Dairymaid
She curtsied,
And went and told
The Alderney:
“Don’t forget the butter for
The Royal slice of bread.”

The Alderney
Said sleepily:
“You’d better tell
His Majesty
That many people nowadays
Like marmalade
Instead.”

The Dairymaid
Said, “Fancy!”
And went to
Her Majesty.
She curtsied to the Queen, and
She turned a little red:
“Excuse me,
Your Majesty,
For taking of
The liberty,
But marmalade is tasty, if
It’s very
Thickly
Spread.”

The Queen said
“Oh!”
And went to
His Majesty:
“Talking of the butter for
The Royal slice of bread,
Many people
Think that
Marmalade
Is nicer.
Would you like to try a little
Marmalade
Instead?”

The King said,
“Bother!”
And then he said,
“Oh, dear me!”
The King sobbed, “Oh, deary me!”
And went back to bed.
“Nobody,”
He whimpered,
“Could call me
A fussy man;
I only want
A little bit
Of butter for
My bread!”

The Queen said,
“There, there!”
And went to
The Dairymaid.
The Dairymaid
Said, “There, there!”
And went to the shed.
The cow said,
“There, there!
I didn’t really
Mean it;
Here’s milk for his porringer
And butter for his bread.”

The Queen took
The butter
And brought it to
His Majesty;
The King said,
“Butter, eh?”
And bounced out of bed.
“Nobody,” he said,
As he kissed her
Tenderly,
“Nobody,” he said,
As he slid down
The banisters,
“Nobody,
My darling,
Could call me
A fussy man—
BUT
I do like a little bit of butter to my bread!”

that was the first poem I had to remember at school



A. A. Milne, “The King’s Breakfast” from The Complete Poems of Winnie-the-Pooh. Copyright © The Trustees of the Pooh Properties reproduced with permission of Curtis Brown Limited, London.

Source: The Complete Poems of Winnie-the-Pooh (Dutton, 1998)

MATILDA

by: Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)

WHO TOLD LIES, AND WAS BURNED TO DEATH

MATILDA told such Dreadful Lies,
It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;
Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
Attempted to Believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,
And would have done so, had not She
Discovered this Infirmity.
For once, towards the Close of Day,
Matilda, growing tired of play,
And finding she was left alone,
Went tiptoe to the Telephone
And summoned the Immediate Aid
Of London's Noble Fire-Brigade.
Within an hour the Gallant Band
Were pouring in on every hand,
From Putney, Hackney Downs, and Bow.
With Courage high and Hearts a-glow,
They galloped, roaring through the Town,
'Matilda's House is Burning Down!'
Inspired by British Cheers and Loud
Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,
They ran their ladders through a score
Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;
And took Peculiar Pains to Souse
The Pictures up and down the House,
Until Matilda's Aunt succeeded
In showing them they were not needed;
And even then she had to pay
To get the Men to go away!

It happened that a few Weeks later
Her Aunt was off to the Theatre
To see that Interesting Play
The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.
She had refused to take her Niece
To hear this Entertaining Piece:
A Deprivation Just and Wise
To Punish her for Telling Lies.
That Night a Fire did break out--
You should have heard Matilda Shout!
You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,
And throw the window up and call
To People passing in the Street--
(The rapidly increasing Heat Encouraging her to obtain
Their confidence) -- but all in vain!
For every time she shouted 'Fire!'
They only answered 'Little Liar!'
And therefore when her Aunt returned,
Matilda, and the House, were Burned.

There once was a little leprechaun
who was short, very tricky and green,
No one could catch this leprechaun
for, he was seldom ever seen.

He played a magical wooden flute
that, at times would fill the air
You could sometimes hear the music he played
even though he was not there

They say that leprechauns live in hollowed out trees
just inside the forests edge
But, we'll never know exactly where
for, that's part of their sacred pledge

To hide from every person in sight
whether they...be young or old
That's the only way to hide away
their great big pot of gold

So, if you hear some music playing
within the forest green
Just know it could be that leprechaun
who is seldom ever seen.

*Robert Horsch.

you think your body everyself
just because you used to was
who d'you think you are I don't suppose!!

AnnCardiff - I'm definitely going to learn that off by heart. Ideal for post-Christmas day lunch rendition when everyone else is comatose in front of the open fire.

my Dad always used to come up with that one :-D

A famous dog once came to town
Known to his friends as Pete
His pedigree was ten yards long
His looks were hard to beat

And as he trotted down the road
'twas beautiful to see
His work at every corner
Every post and every tree

He never missed a land mark
He never missed a post
For piddling was his masterpiece
And piddling pleased him most

The city dogs stood looking on
In deep and jealous rage
To see this little country dog
The piddler of his age

They smelt his efforts one by one
They smelt him two by two
But noble Pete in high disdain
Stood still 'til they were through

Then when they'd smelt him everywhere
The praise for him ran high
But when one smelt him underneath
Pete piddled in his eye

Just then to show these city dogs
He didn't care a damn
He strolled into the grocers shop
And piddled on the ham

He piddled on the cornflakes
He piddled on the floor
And when the grocer threw him out
He piddled up the door

Behind him all the city dogs
Debated what to do
They'd hold a piddling carnival
The hoop they'd put him through

They showed him all the piddling posts
They knew about the town
And off they set with many a wink
To wear the stranger down

But Pete was with them all the way
With vigour and with vim
A thousand piddles more or less
Were all the same to him

And on and on went noble Pete
As tireless as a windmill
And very soon those city dogs
Were piddled to a standstill

Then Pete an exhibition gave
Of all the ways to piddle
With double drips and fancy flips
And now and then a dribble

The city dogs said farewell Pete
Your piddling did defeat us
But no one ever put them wise
That Pete... had diabetes.

A Pathetic Ballad

Ben Battle was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms.

Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, 'Let others shoot;
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot.'

The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, 'They're only pegs;
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs.'

Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, --
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he devoured his pay.

But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off.

'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!'
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be a little more uniform.

Said she, ' I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave

'Before you had those timber toes
Your love I did allow;
But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now.'

'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
For all your jeering speeches,
At duty's call I left my legs
In Badajos's breaches.'

'Why, then,' said she, 'you've lost the feet
Of legs in war's alarms,
And now you cannot wear your shoes
Upon your feats of arms!'

'O false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet, some other man
Is standing in my shoes.

'I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death' -- alas!
You will not be my Nell!'

Now when he went from Nelly Gray
His heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot.

So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did intwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line.

One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs;
And, as his legs were off -- of course
He soon was off his legs.

And there he hung till he was dead
As any nail in town;
For, though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down.

A dozen men sat on his corpse,
To find out why he died, --
And they buried Ben in four cross-roads
With a stake in his inside.


Thomas Hood

I Can't remember


by Anonymous

Just a line to say I'm living
that I'm not among the dead,
Though I'm getting more forgetful
and mixed up in my head

I got used to my arthritis
to my dentures I'm resigned,
I can manage my bifocals
but God, I miss my mind

For sometimes I can't remember
when I stand at the foot of the stairs,
If I must go up for something
or have I just come down from there?

And before the fridge so often
my poor mind is filled with doubt,
Have I just put food away, or
have I come to take some out?

And there's a time when it is dark
with my nightcap on my head,
I don't know if I'm retiring, or
just getting out of bed

So, if it's my turn to write you
there's no need for getting sore,
I may think I have written
and don't want to be a bore

So, remember that I love you
and wish that you were near,
But now it's nearly mail time
So I must say goodbye, dear

There I stand beside the mail box
with a face so very red,
Instead of mailing you my letter
I opened it instead

Not sure this counts as 'humorous ;-)

Talking Turkeys by Benjamin Zephaniah


Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas
Cos' turkeys just wanna hav fun
Turkeys are cool, turkeys are wicked
An every turkey has a Mum.
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas,
Don't eat it, keep it alive,
It could be yu mate, an not on your plate
Say, Yo! Turkey I'm on your side.
I got lots of friends who are turkeys
An all of dem fear christmas time,
Dey wanna enjoy it, dey say humans destroyed it
An humans are out of dere mind,
Yeah, I got lots of friends who are turkeys
Dey all hav a right to a life,
Not to be caged up an genetically made up
By any farmer an his wife.

Turkeys just wanna play reggae
Turkeys just wanna hip-hop
Can yu imagine a nice young turkey saying,
I cannot wait for de chop
Turkeys like getting presents, dey wanna watch christmas TV,
Turkeys hav brains an turkeys feel pain
In many ways like yu an me.

I once knew a turkey called........ Turkey
He said "Benji explain to me please,
Who put de turkey in christmas
An what happens to christmas trees?",
I said "I am not too sure turkey
But it's nothing to do wid Christ Mass
Humans get greedy an waste more dan need be
An business men mek loadsa cash'.

Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
Invite dem indoors fe sum greens
Let dem eat cake an let dem partake
In a plate of organic grown beans,
Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
An spare dem de cut of de knife,
Join Turkeys United an dey'll be delighted
An yu will mek new friends 'FOR LIFE'.

The Cannibal's Dinner Guest"

There's trouble in the jungle,
this hot and humid night.
Hear the pounding of the drums,
see the fires burning bright.

A tribe of hungry cannibals
is gathering for a feast,
and tonight they're not just cooking up
the usual jungle beast.

They dance around the burning flames
that flicker in the night,
and after all that dancing,
well, they've got an appetite.

They eye the captive missionary,
and jump about with glee.
White folks are a special treat,
a real delicacy!

A couple of the cannibals
go off to tend the fire,
while another plucks the captive
of inedible attire.

Ample, generous helpings
of Caucasian are revealed,
as the victim's coat and pants and blouse
and bra are slowly peeled.

A lucky youngster over by
the village cooking pit,
tries on the victim's shoes and socks.
How 'bout that...they fit!

The natives start to fan the flames,
'cause a barbeque needs heat,
especially with a hundred and
forty seven pounds of meat.

Then the tribal cook arrives
with a twelve foot bamboo skewer.
The missionary's remaining moments
are surely getting fewer.

The tribal cook says to the tribe,
"We really should work fast,
and quickly get this person cooked
for this evening's repast."

But the missionary disagrees,
"DON'T YOU DARE!" she shouts.
She looks up at the tribal cook
and says, "You savage lout,

Don't just plop me o'er the fire!
I can think of nothing worse...
You should MARINATE me for awhile
with oil and juices first!

And while I'm roasting, don't forget
to BASTE me, you big cretin!
It'll make me much more succulent
and tender when I'm eaten.

Now, I am a little brawny,
and in places rather plump,
so allow some extra cooking time
for my brisket, hams and rump.

Be sure to try the liver, too -
it's really quite nutritious,
and I strongly recommend my calves...
they should be MOST delicious!"

Well, the natives find it rather odd
to get this kind suggestion.
Most victims only want to give
them lots of indigestion.

On the other hand, they don't complain.
They do just as she'd asked,
dutifully carrying out
these culinary tasks.

And everyone joins in the work,
there is no effort spared,
as the healthy, meaty missionary
is lovingly prepared.

The tribal cook shouts out commands:
"Don't turn the spit too slow!"
"Alright, let's butter her up again,
this time from head to toe!"

Well, the meal turns out just wonderful,
thanks to their dinner guest.
All the bones are cleanly picked -
the cook is quite impressed.

Still, he's just a bit confused,
and a little bit surprised.
Why would this wacky missionary
promote her own demise?

Well, it seems that she had misconstrued
some orders that were sent,
from missionary headquarters
to her little jungle tent.

Her leaders had instructed her
to come up with a plan,
for teaching all the natives
how to SERVE their fellow man !

Jack Smith

Your poems are all too long!

I like:

Candy is dandy.
But liquor is quicker.

Ogden Nash

just love the piddlin' dog!!!! :-D :-D :-D :-D

Bigamy, they say, is a vice,
And more than one spouse is not nice,
But one is a bore,
I'd prefer three or four,
And the plural of spouse is spice?

A pretty young maiden from France
Decided she'd "just take a chance."
She let herself go
For an hour or so
And now all her sisters are aunts.

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,
So Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a color TV ?
Dialing For Dollars is trying to find me.
I wait for delivery each day until three,
So oh Lord, won't you buy me a color TV ?

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a night on the town ?
I'm counting on you, Lord, please don't let me down.
Prove that you love me and buy the next round,
Oh Lord, won't you buy me a night on the town ?

Janis Joplin

Mine are a bit shorter, so might as well post them

By John Lennon

Arf, Arf, he goes, a merry sight
Our little hairy friend
Arf, Arf, upon the lampost bright
Arfing round the bend.
Nice dog! Goo boy,
Waggie tail and beg,
Clever Nigel, jump for joy
Because we are putting you to sleep at three of the clock, Nigel.

The Guns from Baldrick in Blackadder

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Boom! Boom! Boom!

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

And can you guess the last line?

Boom! Boom! Boom!

By Spike Milligan

Mary Pugh was nearly two when she went out of doors
She went out standing up, she did, but came back on all fours
The moral of this story, please meditate and pause
Never send a baby out in loosely waisted drawers

Another from Spike -

I can see a little worm
Crawling on his belly
Perhaps he'd like to come inside
And see what's on the telly.