Poetry

Old Dame Rehmet weaved a tale
Like no one in her time,
With flying turnips, itching queens
And demons speaking rhyme,
She told them all in different voices
And the wildest costume choices.

Bubba Brickle liked to tickle
Little children’s toes,
They socked his eye and made him cry
Till snot ran out his nose.

Gulls swoop.
Dodge poop.
Fish bite;
All right!
Pike soup for dinner tonight.

It’s wet,
It’s sweat.

It’s not;
It’s snot.

Light me a chulha
For my handsome dulha;
I made him hot chai
But he prefers it coolah.

Every so often I take off my glasses
And reach for a scrap that is clean,
I polish one lens, and then do the other,
And wonder how dirty they’ve been.

Make me an omelette covered in cheese,
Green peppers, black olives and cream, if you please.

Respectable Gus Nibble Gnawsom
Apparels in manner quite awesome;
His trousers of cotton are properly starched
With shirt neatly pressed, and epaulettes arched,
And tan leather boots whose ebony laces
Would help Gnawsom get into elegant places;
His coat lined with taffeta, cuff links of bronze
Do help him to forge the most friendly of bonds;
Apparel that brightens the bearing of Gus,
There never was more handsome a gentlemouse.

Note: It would be most gnawsome to pronounce it gentle-mus, evidenced by the last couplet.

Rosy Mariam Redhijab
Loves to eat corn on the cob,
She likes it with butter, she loves it with salt,
And washes it down with a butterscotch malt.