Freddy’s frantic frenzied flashlight feels frazzled.
Forward feelings fearful, frightening Franny’s
frolicking freckled French fried fruit fricassee.
abracadabra I wanna grab ya
don't tell Da and don't tell Ma
a Halloween gala
a ghost town, caw-caw
abracadabra I wanna grab ya
Abracadabrabroo me Godzilla now shoo
shelling out with toothless spider-Hue
got no candy? Duh
this ain't Malibu !
Abracadabrabroo I'm Godzilla now shoo
Abracadabri got the heebie jeebies Gartzie ?
well smezzle pezzle see this old machete
gonna hack your back
cuz I got the knack
Abracadabri got the heebie jeebies Gartzie ?
Ala shazam its a bloodlet moon fricassee
everyone is shakin' I don't care, Tee hee !
served them Grinch tea
now they all have to pee
Ala shazam, its a bloodlet moon fricassee.
Party invitations popped up in everyone’s hand.
The Wizard invited everyone special in the land.
With magic galore, it was destined to be grand.
He made sure good fairies and elves were banned.
To respond they were invited to RSVP The Wizard.
On the menu would be yummy fricassee of gizzard.
And a huge bowl of sautéed toad eyes with lizard.
The host planned it was held on a night of a blizzard.
All in readiness as the guests were arriving first.
Were offered blood cocktails to quench their thirst.
Little did they know the drinks were cursed.
Sit tight you haven’t as yet even heard the worst.
For entertainment a banshee wailed a blood curdling song.
Dracula danced with Medusa to slow songs all night long.
When he tried to bite her neck, her snakes came on strong.
Witches and goblins, ghosts and ghouls all shared a bong.
Pinning the tail on the donkey beware as the donkey kicks.
Not bobbing for apples in a barrel, these were live chicks.
There were ghastly horror movies playing, Taylor Swift flicks.
All had nightmares after the party the Wizard was up to his tricks.
Dubious sandwiches that you were afraid to eat
drinks and concoctions by a bartender name Bert
the floor was sticky and the music too loud
still, it was freedom pub
The jokes were salty but they laughed out loud
the peanuts were stale and the air was musty
the curtains were faded they'd seen better days
still, it was freedom pub
Monday and Wednesday was Friday's fricassee
the heat was turned low but their tongues were ok
no it wasn't the Royal Palace nor Taj Mahal but heh,
still, it was freedom, and the greatest pub in town.
December 7, 2023
If chickens learned to carry knives
Just think, when dinner time arrives
We’d be in for a big surprise
With no more fried breast, leg or thighs
They’d turn the tables, we might be
A tasty “People Fricassee”
Fried elbows may be what’s in store
For chicken’s menu “Dish Du Jour”
And if a cow could pack a gun
We’d be a burger on the run
If pigs condone this twist of fate
What might be on their dinner plate!
Though I love me, some chicken wings
I may consider other things
And hope as I begin to chew
I don’t turn up in mushroom stew!
Is it frivolous to be silly?
Slinging pure lively giddy into a lamp post pile,
laughing in a joyful eager way?
Is it foolish to play as if tonight might be
the last night you can ever play with
these people, or in this spot?
Is it trivial to fricassee words, frying them up
into lively funny limericks or poetic sentences,
trying to amuse or encourage others?
Obviously, I think not.
In laundered lilac linen I lounged half awake
What would this sumptuous Saturday share
Would gregarious grandmother graciously bake
Although the wicked waft of her cakes was hard to compare
I was silently salivating for her chicken fricassee fare
The farm freshest fricassee demanded a certain hen
accompanied by green gardens greatest of variety vegetable
sauteed snips of mint, garlic, and onion, Amen
Wafted walnut savory sauce anticipating the set table
Secret sprinkle cayenne pepper activating heat is enabled
When plated these lusciously lubricated white slices
Of soft succulent hen atop fresh potato mash
Stunningly Swimming alongside fresh vegetable dices
When your tongue tip tastes there's an instant flash
Of cherished childhood flavored food, a true saliva splash
There once was a vampire quite fat,
Who was partial to fricassee of rat?
He liked to drink blood, but rat he did favour,
It really was quite peculiar behaviour.
But Vladimir had more problems than that,
He no longer could turn himself, into a bat,
He still had the need to hang upside down,
So would stand on his head, in a dressing gown.
He went on a date with a zombie, of late,
Who though recently deceased, he really did rate,
It was going quite well, till they got up to dance,
When, Zelda the Zombie went into a trance.
She was still for a moment but started to shake,
And then parts of her body began to break,
Her arms fell off first and then her head,
But the loss of her legs stopped the evening dead.
Vladimir kept his composure quite well,
He was disappointed of course but you couldn’t tell,
He picked her up gently, and sent her home in a cab,
He has a date with her next week, at Frankfurters Lab.
There once was a bold picidae*
Who pounded his beak just for play
on a double-decker
bus, now his pecker
resembles a flawed fricassee
(*picidae - woodpecker)
There was a rabbit in Tennessee
His offspring numbering forty three
His manners much less than polite
Caught in a garden without an invite
Now he's on a plate you see; served as rabbit fricassee
Maelore, King of the Mountain, owning the Mountain’s Wealth
This summer heat has been brutal, affecting the Lions Health
His mistresses, Miss Kitty, Bernadette, the renegade Linda Sioux
The weasels, chipmunks, squirrels and rabbits stay out of Maelore’s view
Chewing on a Milkweed does nothing for Maelore the mountain King
The growl of an empty stomach is the only song starvation will sing
Now the Moutain King, Loves his ladies : He only aims to Please
At Farmer Brown’s there’s chicken for delicious “Chicken Fricassee”
Now Maelore told Miss Kitty; under the light of the bright full Moon
“When they wake up, tell Bernadette and Linda Sioux I’ll be back real soon
A Shotgun Blast ominously echoes across the Mountain’s Forest Floor
Miss Kitty, Bernadette, the renegade Linda Sioux, would see Maelore :
N E V E R M O R E
HGarvey Daniel Esquire Wrote this for Constance ~ The Ramblling POET’S ~
Contest “ Cat Poems “ Dedicated to Constance, Barbara, and Linda-Marie
I don’t want Swine flu
So no more pork for me
I don’t want Bird flu
So no chicken fricassee
I don’t want mad cow disease
So no more Beef for me
I don’t want Salmonella
So no dippy eggs for tea
With mercury in the water
I will no longer eat fish
There is pollution in the air
So I’ll eat no bird related dish
I cannot eat any type of fruit
Because of insecticides
And all vegetables are out
Because of the herbicides
So I am at a loss now
To know what I can eat
There is of course chocolate
But then what would be my treat?
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