Long Funnyold Poems
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Back in 1933 when
I was only ten
Grandpa Leroy came to live
With me and Ma and Ben
Grandpa had a yearning
Since he was a tyke
To fill his boyhood fantasy
And own a shiny bike
But times were tough in Grandpa's time
And life it was no joy
Because his parents told him
They could not afford a toy
So two days after Gramps arrived
When he'd unpacked his trunk
He asked us kids where in this town
He'd find some good used junk
We took him to the junkyard dog
Whose dump was one mile hike
And asked old Earl if he had the parts
To make old Gramps a bike
Within an hour the "dog" produced
A bent up frame and wheel
Some broken spokes, a twisted chain
And offered the best of deals
The seat was missing, the fender crushed
But Grandpa didn't stammer
He knew that frame wouldn't misbehave
When he hit it with a hammer
"It's taken me these sixty years
To own this bike, he sighed
And now the thing that's left to do
Is finally learn to ride!
Up at dawn and in his shed
A 'pounding on the steel
Trying to turn a broken wreck
To something that looked real
We'd hear him cuss when he smashed his thumb
Or the wheel wasn't right
And his cursing would continue
Til the middle of the night
But at last one morning
Round bout five
As I crawled up out my bed
I heard a shriek of sheer delight coming from the shed
Out the door came a figure clad
In bright red underwear
Riding on a bicycle
Wind blowing through his hair
His eyes were wide
And his mouth agape
As through the dust he rode
Narrowly missing a turkey who was headed for the road
He peddled madly through the dirt
Screamingly as proud and fond
Never looking he was heading
Right for Miller's Pond
With a terrible thump
He hit a rock
And tumbled with a howl
Falling with a mighty thump
And scaring all the fowl
The newly built bike was a twisted mess
And Grandpa was a wreck
Covered in mud and dirty
With a turkey round his neck
We pulled old Grandpa from the muck
And dragged the twisted frame
But the poor old geezer didn't care
And quietly said "Oh shame"
"I've had my fun - my last hurrah
My birthdays come too fast
Tomorrow I'll be eighty
Much longer I won't last
I got my special wishes
I'm happy just for that
Now, I'm going walking
Please, kids find my hat"
(continued from PART ONE)
Why I’ve seen him countless times, regurgitate old dog faeces onto fresh bread
And listened to his quiet voice exhorting me to do the same.
This fly was a born teacher.
There can be no greater accolade for a teacher than to be followed by his students.
He used basic good common sense, but spiced-up with a dash of excitement.
The well-known excrement-with-fried-egg, the easy-to-recognize urine-flavoured
Chips in the gutter, and the now commonplace saliva-over-spoon trick,
Are today almost standard delicacies for us all. Yet it was Hector who pioneered them.
He ignored the scorn and catcalls from younger flies, as he disdained a baby’s diaper
In some trash can, and went winging his way up to the second floor of the hospital
To select the juiciest old blood he could find.
No - Hector was independent, he was truly his own fly.
He stuck with pioneering ideas like the then-untested skid techniques
For escaping fly-swatters wielded in kitchens. It was Hector’s brave soul
Which brought standardized fly-patrols into being to catch a greater proportion of
Unsuspecting open-mouthed sleepers at night.
Uncle Hector went where no fly had gone before, and he did it with style.
He often said,“If you can make it on this heap of cat-dung, you can make it anywhere”
And there’s the lesson for us all today, ladies and gentlemen.
Let us not grieve for the loss of such a fine fly, but rather
Celebrate his life of discovery and progress. Let us go forth from this cat-crap
To a brighter future illuminated by the searching curiosity of Uncle Hector’s mind.
Younger generation, you must go forth boldly and find your own rotten cucumbers,
Your own half-eaten porkchops, your own dandruff-laden combs,
And be not afraid to mix them with relish as you choose from the delicacies
Of the knacker’s yard or the remains of a crow hit by a ten-ton truck on the road.
We stand - or hover - now in silence for one minute, as a token of respect -
And as we enjoy the gentle aroma of this cat-crap heap,
Allow the memory of Hector to inspire us.
God bless you all.
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!
LOOK AT EM CRAWLING...
At the old Darreel pub out near Mungindi....
Trapper Joe he rode up, he come from Boggabri...
The DTs were bad with this poor old bugger Jack...
Look at em crawling he did mutter ...
And his rolling eyes were slack....
Joe wandered to a sandhill caught six mulga snakes for fun... (mulga snakes most deadly
poisonous)...
The tie wire tied their mouths shut, all in the bag cept one...
Joe White went back to the pub with a plan to help old bugger Jack....
As he dropped the snakes upon him they slithered out the sack...(millions of mulga snakes
in Australia)...
Jack he rose up a screaming casting snakes about the bar...
And he ran into the timber swearing off the beer hurrah.....
(Jack was cured that day )....
The undertaker said to Joe sell me a black horse....
I have one said old Joe all black yes of course...
A bit of white on Josies face boot polish it would do...
A week later she came back and the undertaker too...
I need another black horse Joe,... this white star ones for you...
Shes just a little flawed i'll sell her cheap to you...
Joe said
So she buried 13 Platts at Mungindi....Don Johnson...
Joe White my GGrandfather had a special ointment , ...a mixture of...
arsenic bluestone and axle grease..
In the early 1900s medicine was touch and go , poisons nasty drugs so deadly all were used
by the medico, not the knife for big ball billy 50-50 die that way,
Bettere get another keg stop the murrays chanting hey...
see big ball billy on youtube /johnsondon2
They'd ask Joe is it any good Joe the ointment? Joe said not much good ...only that it
would heal up a dorgs ass in 2 days and grow hair on it in the 3rd day
If you got swamp cancer on your horse you smeared the ointment on it and it cleared
up...Would kill a cancer growth on a horse...
Nickabilla Bob asked Joe White what he had for old Lumpy, Lumpy had a cancer on his nose .
So Joe gave some ointment in a tobacco tin Bob came back later and said the cancer was
gone now
FAST EDDIE SPEAKS OUT IN THE RABBIT CAGE
Say, pass me that half-carrot, Guido, before I fall asleep with boredom.
Those lettuce leaves are tasty but, oh boy,
It would take a thousand to fill me, Guido my man.
OK, ears down, boys : here’s that dog again -
Don’t move or he’ll stay all morning.
Give him the old glassy-eyed stupid stare.
Hold still, hold the line, stay with me, stay with me ,
If we hold together we have a chance of survival. . . . . .
Aw, Eddie, you’ve been watchin’ too many re-runs of “Gladiator”
You’re startin’ to sound like Russell Crowe, ha ha ha. . . . . . . . .
Good, that four-legged urine-sniffer has gone after the cat.
Wow! Look at the fur-shine on that new doe.
Man, she gets my whiskers twitching all right.
Listen, Fast Eddie, you can look at the goods but don’t touch.
She’s new in the hutch and Minnesota Fats has his eye on her.
He’s one big buck to handle.
Yeah, well I ain’t scared, I coulda been a contender. . . . .
Eddie, you gotta stop watchin’ those movie re-runs.
That doe? Remember how old Black Legs and Pretty Boy with the grey eyes
Ended up as pies and sausage after “accidentally” falling into
The hot soup pan when Minnesota was nearby,
And that was just because they laughed at his nose-twitch.
Listen Guido, I can take him I tell ya, and then I’ll be the man,
Then all the dough will belong to this big buck. . . . .
Don’t you get it, Guido, “dough” and “doe”. . . . ?
Fast Eddie, the only “Doh” I’m gonna hear is the Homer “Doh”
Cos here comes Minnesota now. Quick, offer him your carrot.
Mornin’ Fat Man, wanna chew my carrot? Go ahead, make my day, ha ha
Man your fur sure is shiny, Minnesota, wish I could get mine like that.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written for Miranda Lambert's Contest BEHIND BARS BLUES
Here's another story that I just made up
That just can't wait to be told
About a weary prospector, down on his luck
That gave his life for his gold
He was way up yonder in the hills, they say
Just him and his scrappy old mule
That poor old mule didn't have no teeth
So he'd sit around the camp and drool
Now that prospector, who we'll call Jake
Was as secret as he could be
He didn't like people snooping around
So he wasn't much for company
See, Jake had been on that mountain
For nigh on twenty years
But he never did hit the mother load
With all his sweat and tears
Then, one day he decided to go fishing
A fish pulled him right in the river
He tried to hang on with all of his might
It's hard to do when you shiver
Jake looked up and was headed toward the falls
So he decided he'd better let go
When he dropped that line, he sunk like a rock
And started thrashing to and fro
Now, Jake was a real good swimmer
He was on the prospector's Olympic team
But, everytime his head went under
All he could do was scream
Now Jake had prospected his whole life
But now, he was getting pretty old
He didn't know the reason he was drowning
But his pockets were full of gold
When he figured it out, he had gold fever
And he refused to let it go
All poor old Jake could think about
Was he finally hit the mother load
See, when that old fish had jerked him in
He was dragging him on the bottom
There was gold just laying everywhere
And that's where his pockets got them
Poor old Jake drowned that day
Richest man in the world, I think
His old mule was standing on the bank
Drooling, as he watched him sink
They fished his body out of that river
The next morning before dawn
But they found both pockets empty
It was stolen by a leprechaun
Well, I guess it's time for me to go
I can see as I look at my clocks
But if you really wanna protect your gold
Then let me suggest Fort Knox
Out apon the sea.
Its hard to catch some relife.
Or find some time to set willy free.
It's a priates life no need to back your
bags.
Just grab a pint.
When in port avoid the sea hags.
Swab the decks and please if
ya gotta puke lean over the side.
Be a good little sea bandit
or you'll be learning were Davey Jones does
reside.
We got fish for breakfest supper and lunch.
Can somone please help the captain.
ya know with a hook for a hand its easy to
get your pants in a bunch.
I gotta walk the plank again ?
Hey it's really rude sticking me with that knife.
It sure would be nice if we put this ship in the water.
Do more than drinking and dreaming of the pirates life.
I really dont trust a captian with a poodle.
It really gets old being harrased.
And cleaning up fee fee's doodle
Dont let Larry steer.
After the tenth time it gets old.
running a ground to go fetch a beer.
No sir I dont belive we'll run into the loch ness monster
off the jersey shore.
No I dont belive the worlds flat.
And I dont care if the five year old first mate swore.
The crows nesk is a perfect place to hide from your
wife.
Were heading the wrong way check the gps.
Yes I really cant take this pirates life.
Yes captian I really doubt A mermaid stole
all the rum.
What's the catch of the day?
Sea monster sure I'll have some.
The captian is crabby and it's time for the
first mates nap.
The cook isnt crying cause he's choppin onions
Its cause he finished the briges of Madison County
yes he's a bit of a sap.
It's probaly not best to duel with a butter knife.
As we set sail yes mam we''ll have the first mate
back befor sundown.
It's kinda messed up living this modern pirates life.
Here's another story about Granny
I think she's probably done it all
This was way back during prohibition
When they outlawed alcohol
See, my granny was a moonshiner
This is about her very first still
She had to make sure no revenuers
Came snoopin' around her hill
So she set up fifty-one booby traps
Now It wasn't nothing too bad
But anyone caught snoopin' around
Would probably wish they never had
See, my granny was like Davy Crockett
She killed a bear when she was only three
Well, a limb fell and hit him on the head
While Granny was climbing up a tree
Anyway, back to the moonshine still
Granny made that still all by herself
With some things she found in the yard
And copper tubing she found on the shelf
Now my granny didn't make ordinary shine
Hers was something a little more special
See, she didn't put it in old clay jugs
This took a different kind of vessel
Now, Granny's shine was known world wide
They came from everywhere
They're were even a few bald headed guys
That swore that it made them grow hair
Now my granny's secret recipe, was one of a kind
I could tell you, but you would probably disappear
So it's better that I keep this secret a secret
Cause my granny has some real good ears
Then late one night, a revenuer came
He was fixin' to take my granny to jail
Til he stepped in one of her booby traps
And started screaming about the horrible smell
See my granny had put some skunk pee
Inside one of those booby traps
And when they stepped on one of her triggers
It squirted it all over their laps
Well, prohibition finally ended
They called Granny the "Moonshine Queen"
That little old lady never got caught
And was the richest moonshiner I've ever seen
James Hinkshaw
There once was a man named James Hinkshaw.
Who planned to go to town for a jigsaw.
He had hick-saws and jinx-saws
He even had a wink-saw.
But no penny-whinny jigsaw—
He loved riding to town in his rickshaw.
Once he drove there to buy his new jigsaw.
His new rickshaw broke down.
He was not yet in town.
So, he walked there with hacksaw and jinx-saw.
It was a long day for James Hinkshaw.
He walked into town with no rickshaw.
As he went on his way,
A bear started a fray.
So he killed the old bear with his hacksaw.
There, alone on the road was James Hinkshaw.
And the bear butchered there with his hacksaw.
Oh, what could he do?
He felt sure no one knew.
He was there with dead bear but no rickshaw.
Poor old James had not made it to town.
And the sun was about to go down.
When he knelt there to pray,
A peddler came his way.
And sold poor old James Hinkshaw a jigsaw.
James Hinkshaw then had a new jigsaw.
To add to his hick-saws, and winks-saw…
He needed to go home.
In the dark, he could not roam.
What would happen to weary James Hinkshaw?
The peddler who sold James the jigsaw,
Gladly drove him back to the rickshaw.
In exchange for bear meat,
He let James rest his feet.
Toeing home, James Hinkshaw and his rickshaw.
DEDICATED to my grandfather, who would never say, “Pudding &
Taine…ask me again and I'll tell you the same” He, instead would laugh and rapidly say,
“James-John-Hinksaw-Winksaw-Penny-Winny-Jinksaw!” (Of course, this was Not his name)
LOL His imagination and mine are now joined…again. SMILES. I love you, Granddad!
© © Dane Smith-Johnsen
February 21, 2010
Poetic form: Limerick: a story series
In the winter of 1873, Alfred Packer was hired to guide a prospectin' trek.
In the San Juans of Colorady they'd heard of gold that they wanted to check.
Alfred claimed that in Colorady minin' camps he'd driven wagons of ore.
He guaranteed he'd show 'em the valuable stuff that they were lookin' for!
They visited sage old Chief Ouray and he warned 'em to wait 'til spring,
To cross those rugged tors, but no, they wanted to press on and do their thing!
So foolish Albert and five of the group decided to trudge on through the snow!
Of the blindin' snow, lack of grub and perilous paths, little did they know!
A few months later Packer appeared at an Indian Agency lookin' fit and well!
He said he'd been left behind due to injuries, one of many tales he was to tell!
His story changed several times sayin' one man went berserk and killed the rest!
There was evidence that cannibalism was involved but old Albert never confessed!
Packer was jailed in Saguache but later made his escape to Wyoming state!
He was nabbed and returned to Salt Lake City for a trial and sentencin' date.
"They was seven Dimmycrats in the county", pronounced the judge from the bench,
"But yah man-eatin' sunuvab**ch, yah et five of 'em, fer that yer neck'll wrench!"
Later the sentence was reduced to manslaughter and he was given forty years,
To be served at the pen in Canon City, Colorady, but no one shed any tears!
He was paroled in 1901 and moved to Denver where he hung around.
Now his molderin' bones rest in peace 'neath a grassy burial mound!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 7 in Carolyn Devonshire's "Legend" Contest - April 2011