There was a young man called Pete
Who did my wine cellar deplete.
Being drunk as a lord
He fell on his sword.
That unfortunate young man called Pete.
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/deplete/).
There was a young man called Bill
Who had his hand in the till.
When his boss named Mike
Said “go take a hike”
He left along with the till.
There was a young lady called Joan
Who sat getting drunk on her own.
An old reprobate named Dan
Had a most wicked plan,
But went back home on his own.
There was a young man called Jo
Who stood upon my toe.
When I cried in pain
He did it again,
So I shot him with my bow!
There was a young man called Jo
Who stood upon my toe.
When I cried in pain
He did it again,
So I told him where to go!
There was a young lady called Fay
Who to her fantasies gave way.
She loved chocolate mousse
And had morals quite loose,
So I married her in May …
There was a young lady called Fay
Who to her fantasies gave way.
She loved chocolate mousse
And had morals quite loose
Which turned my hair to grey …
Tis fun to sail away on a boat
With friends and your wife’s best coat.
But if you and the craft should sink
Your dear wife will think
On the loss of her favourite coat.
Tis fun to sail away on a boat
With friends and your wife’s best coat.
But if the boat goes down
And you should drown,
What of your wife’s best coat?
An amusing article concerning the merits of learning poetry by rote, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2260419/Ill-vote-learning-poetry-rote.html. (The author is not in favour of said practice). As one of the commenters states, in the comments following on from the piece, much of the poetry I can recall is that from which I derived pleasure, for example Dowson’s “They Are Not Long The Weeping And The Laughter” and Beloc’s “On An Election”.
As someone or other once wrote:
There was a young Man called Moat
Who learned a poem by rote.
It was somewhat long
And concerned a thong
Or perhaps it was a goat!
There was a young man called James
Who went by numerous names.
When he met a girl named Kim
His name was Jim
Or maybe it was Aimes …
There was a young lady called Jane
Who boarded the wrong train.
She jumped off in a huff
Yelling “I have had enough
And I can’t stand the rain!”.
There was a young lady called Jane
Who boarded the wrong train.
She jumped off in a huff
Which was really quite tough
On account of the moving train!
“Wait here!” he said, his hands clenching and unclenching as he strode towards the door. There was a crash and he was out in the open air.
He rushed down the garden path and, wrenching open the tool shed door, grabbed several thick bamboo canes and, not bothering to close it behind him, hurried back to the building where the objects of his ire awaited his return.
He found that thin canes had no lasting effect. What was needed was real discipline and he was determined that, come hell or high water those ungrateful offspring he had so carefully nurtured would behave.
“I’ve warned you until I’m blue in the face but you won’t listen! All the love and care I’ve devoted to you and you repay me by slouching on the ground like that. Right, here goes” he said brandishing the thick bundle of bamboo. Bending down he grasped one of the many large plants which had become detached from the frame which had, hitherto held them in place …
