JACK AND JILL
Jack and Jill climbed the hill for pails of beer
To satisfy the thirst of papa dear
Jack took a tumble
Jill took a stumble
For spilt suds, each got a kick in the rear
HUMPTY DUMPTY
Humpty Dumpty was perched on a high wall
Alas, Old Humpty took a fatal fall
Left among the pile of dregs
Was nothing but scrambled eggs
And scattered shards of shell, that's about all
JACK BE NIMBLE
Jack, you had better be nimble and quick
As you take a leap o'er that candlestick
Such capers are uncanny
You could well scorch your fanny
So think again before you try that trick
...or Jack be walking funny for a while...
Jack was nimble,
And Jack was quick,
But he miscalculated
That candlestick.
It was skinny and tall,
He was thick and quite small.
When he lit,
It was with an undignified bump,
With a blister
The size of his fist on his rump.
Then a notion occurred
To this game little actor,
Before he tries it again,
Jack will use a protractor.
I've two computers I'd like to sell,
They're old, but they both still work very well.
They are Windows desktops, aka, a PC,
One browses with Firefox,
And one with IE.
I can't recall, now, which is which,
But as near as I can tell,
The latter's in the Acer,
And the former in the Dell.
Why did little Tommy Tucker
Have to sing for his supper?
Did he stammer and stutter
To merit just bread and butter?
And what miscreant oaf
Would then give him a loaf
But nary a knife to cut through it?
Didn't Tom have enough strife
In his life with no wife,
Or did fat spread on starch
Help him chew it?
a cozy room with a warm cup of tea,
my favourite seat by window to see,
a lazy day with nothing else to do,
isn’t something you would love to do too?
a pair of spectacles for me to look,
how I love the fresh smell of this new book,
mum in the kitchen frying me some treat,
it is fun sometimes to put up my feet!
no way I can play on a rainy day,
summer downpours in the hot month of May,
ground is so soggy we may slip and fall!
so shall stay in and read! not bad at all!!
Mrs. Spratt was exceedingly fat,
Hubby Jack was as lean as a bone.
They both relished each meal
With a great deal of zeal
And even licked platters clean
When the eating was done.
Though not frugal with rations,
They still took lovely vacations
With the money they saved on dish detergent alone.
Pat-a-cake pat-a-cake baker's man
Bake me a cake as fast as you can
Speed is of the essence
So put it in the oven for Billy and Jan
Now Jack be nimble Jack be quick
London Bridge is falling down
Get off soon as you can
Some take pics of me in my nightgown
Is there a man on the moon not sure
Does he have funny big ears
How about a very large nose
Can smell cheese from the moon to here
Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye
The reason is don't know why
Well a celebration is close
Not sure if sixpence will do it just gonna try
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner
Eating his Christmas pie
He stuck in his thumb
Pulled out some screaming happy guys
It's no wonder that old dame knew not what to do,
If she thought she could raise kids alone in a shoe.
She proved after the second
She was overly fecund,
Maybe Mother Goose reckoned she'd have child support, too.
The first little piggy went to market;
The second demurred and preferred to stay home;
The gluttonous third one
Ate all of the roast beef,
So the fourth hungry piggy got none.
Although it's not clearly stated,
His thirst must have been sated
And his bladder inflated
'cause number five urinated
All the way home.
Old MacDonald had a farm
With some noisy critters on it.
They mostly mooed, or neighed,
Or clucked, or brayed,
But some stayed
Resolutely mute,
I'm afraid.
It wasn't his equines,
Or bovines,
Or fowls,
Or anything lodged in his barns or corrals,
But a couple of rather recalcitrant vowels.
The "e" and the "i" and the "o"
Answered the call,
While the "a" and the "u"
Stayed conspicuously AWOL.
"Tom, Tom the piper's son
Stole a pig and away he run.
The pig was eat,
And Tom was beat,
And Tom went crying down the street."
Now, this rhyme,
For a reader,
Offers minimal relief
As to who ate the pig
Or who chastised the thief.
And why Tom was punished
When his dad wasn't able
To pipe well enough
To put food on the table?
I can only hope that the author
Wound up in the slammer
For promoting delinquency,
Child abuse…
And really bad grammar!
...or It's good to be the king!
What was't made King Cole
Such a merry old soul
As he sucked on his pipe,
And he supped from his bowl,
And he fiddled around
With three young court musicians?
And what was the role
Of his missus, Queen Cole?
Was she under a table
With a lad from the stable
Who was told he'd be able
To upgrade his position?
These royal highnesses
Were not known for their shynesses,
But more for their quaint peculiarities.
The queen drank from a chalice
That was shaped like a phallus,
While he labored away
Doing king things all day
In a black lace brassière
And a pink negligée.
But their subjects adored
Such eccentric vulgarities.
Now, getting back to the king,
That sweet silly old thing,
Here's how his story played out.
He had good years aplenty,
Then at three score and twenty,
He finally retired
And expired of the gout.
An itsy bitsy spider
Is waiting for the rain
To drip its final droplets down
So she can weave her web again.
Next time she'll choose a better spot
Than that worn-out water spout.
It was damp and cramped
And the sun could never quite
Completely dry it out.
This web she'll string between two trees,
A fat oak and one much thinner.
Then with lacey, lethal table set,
The patient spider will wait some more
To see who'll drop by for dinner.
When Old Mother Hubbard
Examined her cupboard
And found not a scrap there to munch on,
Not one morsel that clung
To an ort or a crumb,
She felt foolish and dumb
And stood sucking her thumb
While her dog, Butch, got nothing for luncheon.
"She forgot to go shopping again," grumbled he.
She just scratched his ears sighing,
"Sorry, pal. C'est la vie."
When pangs of hunger are felt,
Humans tighten their belt,
But poor Butch started howling
As his stomach was growling,
For a mastiff has needs to be regularly fed.
So…since there was no baloney…
And…since she was nice and bony…
Mother Hubbard wound up on the menu instead.
This tale has a moral,
As some nursery rhymes do,
And this one's a little bit gruesome, it's true:
A pet owner's job's
To protect not neglect him,
So feed yours each mealtime,
For if too long overdue,
Your "Butch" might be inclined
To make a meal out of you.
The rhyme "Hey diddle diddle"
For me poses a riddle:
What possible need
Has a cat for a fiddle?
A cow might jump over the moon,
So I'm told,
If a milkmaid's hands
Are unexpectedly cold.
Which could make a dog laugh,
Or anyone, for that matter,
Just as funny as cutlery
"Spooning" a platter.
This rhyme is so silly,
Raises so many questions,
But as for solutions,
Not one good suggestion.
So I'll add here my own sage advice
To the muddle
To prevent boys when peeing
From making a puddle:
When you need to go piddle,
Think "Hey diddle diddle",
Keep both your eyes open
And aim for the middle.
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