Best Sprat Poems
HEY DIDDLE, why the Cat and the fiddle
And the Cow that jumped over the moon?
Why they're all here in Nursery Rhyme land
At the wedding of the Dish and the Spoon.
The Little Dog is happy,The Cat is playing a tune
And soon the Dish and the Spoon will go hand in hand
Off on their honeymoon.
The guests include OLD KING COLE
And HUMPTY DUMPTY who sat on a wall
Though he's being very careful today-
Doesn't want to spoil things by having a fall.
MARY MARY QUITE CONTRARY
Has left her garden behind
And come along with LITTLE BO-PEEP
With all her sheep to mind.
SIMPLE SIMON has come with the Pieman
Because they're preparing the food.
And LITTLE JACK HORNER wont sit in the corner
Thinks it might be rather rude.
JACK SPRAT AND HIS WIFE have come for the feasting .
So has THE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHOE,
And OLD MOTHER HUBBARD hopes something left for the cupboard
And her poor dog who's at home with the flu.
WEE WILLIE WINKIE has changed out of his nightshirt
And dressed up in his sunday best,
But he'll have to leave early to check on the children
To make sure that they're all at rest.
LITTLE TOMMY TUCKER wont need to sing for his supper.
GEORGIE PORGIE said he wont make anyone cry.
And JACK AND JILL have brought some lemonade in their bucket
In case some of the guests get dry.
DOCTOR FOSTER returned from Gloucester-
Says he hopes it doesn't rain
But he's brought his umbrella just in case
Doesn't want to get caught out again!
THE CROOKED MAN although he's bent double
Said he's determined to dance,
His partner is BETTY BLUE who lost her shoe
Then happened to find it by chance-
Well these are just some of the wedding guests
Travelled from far and wide
That have come along to celebrate with
The proud groom and his dish of a bride....
So now you know what's going on
With the Cat and the fiddle and the COW that jumped over the moon.
And why the Little Dog laughed to see such fun
All because the Dish fell in love with the SPOON.
Categories:
sprat, childrenwedding, old, dog, cat,
Form:
Light Verse
For P.D's "Going Haiku Crazy" Contest
How Many?
going to St. Ives
met folks on that smelly bus
more than I could count
Just Sleep Walking?
Wee Willy Winky
caught outside a boy’s window
in a night garment
Got Wool?
naked in the lane
three bags-full of wool sheared off
baa baa black sheep fleeced
She Didn’t Know What to Do!
Kids’ cries from inside -
outside an old woman’s shoe
child welfare people
Clean Your Plate!
Licking their plates clean
Jack Sprat and wife do their part. . .
kids starve in China
The Treacherous Hill
pail of spilled water
Jill’s body sprawled over Jack’s
one big bloody mess
What a Ding Dong
good deed for the day
boy scout Tommy Stout by well. . .
scratches on his arm
Not Even a Bone
old Mother Hubbard
Social Security cut
dog needs a new home
Yellow Georgie
victims of Porgie
confront him in the playground
his true color shows
The Original Blonde
Bo peep loses sheep
birth of a new tradition. . .
blonde jokes being told
The Schemer
some spilled curds and whey
spider near a fallen chair
supping happily
Making the Best. . .
Humpty takes a spill
the whole army can’t fix him
omelets for lunch
Baby Catches On
the church and steeple
and now you show me people?
those are just fingers!
They Say He Couldn’t Keep Her!
gossip in the town
pumpkin shell big as a house. .
where is Peter’s wife?
Bye, Hushed Baby
the sound of wind’s rush
baby’s cries abruptly hushed
broken branch on ground
*I'm choosing this series of haiku for several reasons.
First, it's the only post I made named "Twisted" so it
is an obvious choice. Second, I do have other poems
I consider a bit twisted, but, I simply cannot
remember the titles of some of these really old poems
to look for them. Finally, this series was inspired by
a long ago contest of PD's in which I got the idea
to take nursery rhymes and twist them, and so
I'm reviving this series which can no longer be
viewed by anybody here unless it's in a contest!
Categories:
sprat, funnyold, old,
Form:
Haiku
It was way after eight, at the Cat in the Hat.
The whole plaice was swimming, quoth the mackrel to sprat.
Though the milk was upset, she still stifled her cry,
So sorry i spilt you, mumbled poor humble pie.
My joints are the bees knees, squealed the honey roast ham,
And the apple agreed, she was better than spam.
Then red herring denied, he had something to hide,
Like a small Bombay duck, is a fish that is dried.
While tasty choux pastry, bared her soul to an eel,
The mock turtle announced, i believe i am veal.
And the ice cube was crushed, as she played fast and loose,
For an orange refused, to be part of fruit juice.
As warm rhubarb crumble, melts in custards embrace,
The sour gooseberry tart, wails she's taking my place
Then a voice in my head, spoke it's all fantasy.
Your table awaits you, said the waitress to me.
I glanced at the menu, it was all a la carte.
I said, bring me everything, but let's start with that tart.
Categories:
sprat, imagination, nonsense,
Form:
Couplet
Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse,
Ran up the clock,
But the crooked little man
In his crooked little house,
Who caught this crooked mouse
After Humpty Dumpty's fall,
Could not prevent the coming
Down of baby, cradle and all!
Now old Mother Hubbard,
Checked her bare cupboard
And found Jack and Jill,
Who lived just up the hill,
She wrapped poor Jack’s head
In vinegar and brown paper!
Guy Fawkes scandalous caper,
Was renown, he met the Duke of York,
Who to Fawkes, seemed quite a dork,
For the Duke took all his men up,
Then down, and up and again down,
He did not want to break his crown!
At that moment a Ladybird,
Whose house was on fire and
Her children gone, flew to the house,
That Jack built, and sat on the maidens
Lap all forlorn,
In the early morn,
But the maiden had gone to bed with John
Who still had his trousers on!
Both had a ball, and sang
A song of Sixpence,
But in their defence
They were hiding from Guy Fawkes
And his gunpowder plot,
In bed, thought of it naught!
Suddenly through their bed
Ran three blind mice for their life
And a farmers wife,
Who was cutting their tails with a knife!
Imagine three little kittens,
Who had lost their mittens
But could have no pie,
When they saw the blind mice,
Pie was history, as once,
Twice and thrice,
They caught the blind mice!
Meanwhile Polly had put the kettle on
So that all the mourners for Cock Robin,
Could all have a cup of tea,
It was the fly with his little eye,
Who first saw him die.
However, through all of this,
Little Jack Horner
Who sat in his corner
Heard Tom, Tom the Pipers son,
And though related none
Visited the Queen of hearts,
Who gave them some tarts!
Night time was nigh
And way up in the sky,
Was a twinkling star,
That Jack Sprat spotted from afar,
And so did old King Cole,
But at the same time heard the bell toll,
For poor cock robin,
So he started sobbing,
But soon cheered up when
He saw a fine lady upon a white horse,
Riding to Banbury Cross!
Wee Willie Winkie, asked for a ride
Through the town,
Still in his nightgown!
But when he saw the cow jump
Over the moon,
And the dish,
Run away with the spoon,
He rubbed his eyes and said what a fiddle,
Hey diddle diddle!
Categories:
sprat, nursery rhyme,
Form:
Rhyme
Did you read about me going up a hill,
that was with Jack not with Bill.
Guess you know my drill,
"Jack and Jill" sure had a big thrill.
My dear friend "Little Jack Horner,"
loved sitting in the corner.
I wanted to be outside but he was a mourner,
he would also read about being a foreigner.
"Jack Be Nimble" was sure quick,
our fun neighbor was never sick.
Pretty candles he did pick,
jumping high over the lit wick.
"Jack Sprat" and his wife,
she carried a big knife.
He had no fat in his life,
she had only lean with strife.
Hope you have enjoyed reading about me,
I am Jill and I want to be set free.
Yes, on that hill I hurt my knee,
that fall made me pee.
Categories:
sprat, boy, fun, giggle, girl,
Form:
Rhyme
Are you searching for a dragon, oh wee one on the sand,
In amidst those grainy details that sparkle in your hand -
A small monster there that wriggles, a minnow or a sprat?
Such amazing worlds to conquer, beneath your tiny hat ...
Ply the river's raging waters with your finger's little tip,
As heaven's tears wash grains of sand with each small, dewy drip.
Oh, how I long to join you in those ventures you pursue,
But it's too small and I too old ... to see that land with you.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Free Verse Or Rhyme Poetry In Its Beauty" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
sprat, appreciation, child, childhood, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
Last week featured poetic Drama
Like living at home with your momma
Poetic, inspiration
Perhaps taken vacation
So watch your P’s, your Q’s and comma
Jack’s Sprat had the nastiest critic
Mary said, “You just better quit it!”
Jack said, “I may as well split!”
Mary’s mad enough to spit
Soup is family, don’t you get it!!!!
So be kind to your critics
Often times they don’t get it
Write loving features
Appease mad creatures
Write of love or forget it
++++++++++++++++++++
For and in honor of Carol Brown
And contest: Write it for yourself
Categories:
sprat, love,
Form:
Limerick
Some folks like their food real spicy;
Others lean towards bland.
Oftentimes the piquancy
Is not what you had planned.
There are those who favor bitter;
Many savor sweet.
Recipes that call for both
Are where the twain shall meet.
Certain people would declare
Their meal a real fiasco
If it didn’t have the sting
Of salsa or Tabasco.
Personalities, as well,
Are fiery or cool.
Foods reflect one’s temperament,
Though logic may not rule.
It’s possible that someone dull
Likes savory cuisine,
Yet someone sultry somehow lacks
That tangy pungent gene.
It’s like the nursery rhyme we learned
Of Jack Sprat and his wife:
Variety makes the world go round
And is the spice of life.
Ilene Bauer (http://primetimerhyme.blogspot.com)
Categories:
sprat, introspection, life
Form:
Rhyme
River crab , river crab,why do you not sleep?
I have opened my eyes to see the big and the small.
The mackerel that only sees the small sprat
And not the big shadow it casts on the river bank
Shall soon float in the smaller and hotter poll.
River crab, river crab,why do you not sleep?
I have opened my eyes to see all around me,
For what we ignore today and say it is harmless
Tomorrow often casts big shadow on our path.
Brutus once bragged; Antony is a small ant.
River crab , river crab, why do you not sleep?
I have prohibited sleep from my eyes
To pay attention with due diligence
To everything at the river bank
Mama had warned me at my birth:
Even the smallest ant casts long shadow;
No matter how minute a factor,
She said it is a factor.
Categories:
sprat, philosophy,
Form:
Personification
I've got a dish of killifish
I wish to eat that silly fish
Baked, or fried in peanut oil
Roasted, dried, or let to boil.
Make me a star-gazy pie
Take me to the Catfish Fry
Lead me to the China Sea
Feed me hermit crabs and brie.
Help me out with rainbow trout
Salt and thyme and wedge of lime
Filet of sole, or snapper red,
Served up whole, or just the head.
Meals of eels caught on reels
You're the star with caviar
Butter clams served with yams
Can't say no to salmon roe.
Tuna eyes baked in pies
Oh so daring pickled herring
In the lurch for snails and perch
Ring the bells for cockle shells.
Canned sardines on toast with greens
Sturgeon, sprat, and stuff like that
Grouper, pike, that's what I like
Smelt and bream that make me dream.
Cajun shrimp for my new pimp
Lutefisk and lobster bisque
Flying squid and yellowfin
Silver carp and capelin.
Give to me a plate of oyster
Eat them raw, that way they're moister
Tilapia and tiger prawn
Eat them 'til my hunger's gone.
Hake or krill would be a thrill
Bass and shad will make me glad
Tasty crappie makes happy
Give a nod to Greenland cod
Oo! I'd like a northern pike
Barramundi served on Sunday
Grouper, alligator gar,
Halibut or no cigar.
Amberjack atop hardtack
Pan-fried kipper for the skipper
Mackerel, tasty as hell,
Lox and mullet down the gullet.
Kokanee or marlin blue
Arowana, bowfin too
Bring to me your soups and stews
Sing for me the dogfish blues.
Categories:
sprat, animal, fish, fishing, food,
Form:
Rhyme
Wee Willie Winkie met up with Tom Sprat
To try to find the crooked cat
They employed the help of three blind mice
But then decided that wasn’t nice
So they left the mice with Ol’ King Cole
Who ate curds and whey out of a bowl
That he took from Miss Muffet when she ran away
From the little spider that ruined her day
They went down Drury Lane where they saw the Red Hen
Being questioned by all the Kings Men
About bells and cockles in neat little rows
And who might have taken the emperors clothes
She quickly blamed the Duke of York
Who supposedly took the knife and fork
Just before the cow jumped over the moon
Which is why the dish ran away with the spoon.
Categories:
sprat, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
William Spencer Montague Sprat
(why on earth they called him that)
lived a life of luxury
suited to autocracy.
T'was true that Lady Sprat his mum
with a true Lord had had her fun
and bore a son of noble blood
as any Lord and Lady should.
But alas our Lady Sprat
had acted like a little prat
for she was not betrothed to he
that boosted up her family tree.
This Lord was married to another
(chosen by his own sweet mother)
and though his Lady had fair grace
she couldn't keep his randy pace.
So poor young William S M Sprat
was not pure blood and more than that,
the Lord he thought was his dear dad
didn't know that he'd been had.
But Lady Sprat, she knew her game
and even gave her son that name
although it made him sound a prat
it gave him heritage of Sprat.
So if your name puts you to shame
although your parents are to blame
don't be a prat, just bear the pain
remember Sprat and don't complain!
Ivor G Davies
Categories:
sprat, birth, confusion, dad, family,
Form:
Rhyme
A truculent woman named Jools
was discovered cheating at boules
Tossing balls in the air
Jools was heard to declare
oh those rules are just made for fools!
***a little poetic licence as I understand boules is pronounced 'bull'***
06-30-17
Categories:
sprat, conflict, humorous, sports,
Form:
Limerick
A spider drank cider and was legless at breakfast
Now this placid arachnid with a shoddy wee body
Asked weevils so evil if they each had a needle
Could they just for a joke smoke while they poked
At erudite mites with myopic eyesight
And bedridden black beetles who bawled noon and night
At bow legged bees who could bumble and fumble
With wasps that were dishy but got into a tizzy
Watching high jumping fleas pee in the sea
Beside conniving cockroaches who approached in stagecoaches
Near trails of pale snails drinking buckets of ale
Sold by charming blow flies wearing spotted bow ties
In a dark damp old cellar with an ant storyteller
Whose sight had declined until he was blind
Who made up strange tales of fat whales with sharp nails
That fed on a diet of cat, sprat and rat
Carrying small bugs who never gave hugs
To horn-tailed yellow midges wearing red tartan breeches
And whopper leafhoppers sucking monster gobstoppers
So the spider could laugh like a three legged giraffe
And begin to grin at the insects chagrin
Categories:
sprat, nonsense,
Form:
Light Verse
A long spine of asphalt, sizzling black
The macka back cart rumbling
On the morning nerve, herring sprat
Is high life some days in this place
Across the street the bakery
Up the street the parrot teaching me to curse
The hollow determination in any face
For we were all connected by a common shame
The sense that here was the bottom
And our pain was those on top of us
And zinc fences surrounding us
In the prison of our dream.
I was the child at the back of the crowd
After the evening prayers
And the rush for freedom
From the classroom corals that punished our desire
To find our own direction amidst the squall
Of trickery and gun fire ...
I was the child like a raggamuffin on the street
The distractor so my friends could cheat
Mr Bola of his dumplings
My pocket tell the truth of grease in them
I was the child stoning the mango trees
And then close to my gate ... drop back, boy
Behold, out of me a muted lamb appear
I remember, Mrs Donaldson, Byfield
And the tall wall, high as the East Indian tree
I remember Scott, Penley
The girl who almost stole my virginity
And long not now my inocense to keep
What joy for it I could have reaped
But I had neither asphalt nor concrete
Not backbone
Not knowledge of self, no longing for a me
While England's song I hummed those days
And mother's voice was my leash.
I could break on law
Without my brother's raw anger, the basket of his pride
The tamarind switch, my burning skin
The street at noonday filled with din
Firm as a cross
And I wandering it bewitched and lost.
Categories:
sprat, nostalgia, places, schoolchild, longing,
Form:
Free verse