There was a young lady called May
Who spent all her time in play.
Her boss said,
As he shook his head,
“In this job you can not stay”!
There Was A Young Lady Called May
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Tag Archives: humour
There Was A Young Man Called Bert
There was a young man called Bert
Who was never very alert.
When they found him dead
The undertaker said,
“Now he is truly inert”!
There Was A Young Man Called Guy
There was a young man called Guy
Who, like Icarus, wanted to fly.
He jumped off Big Ben
At a quarter to ten.
I really don’t understand why!
Knickers
The below poem was inspired by a comment overheard by me while enjoying a drink in a pub last weekend (Saturday 29 October).
—
“This beer tastes like lady’s knickers”, says an elderly man at a table.
Standing at the bar, I am scarcely able
To contain my laughter, and idly think
As I enjoy my drink
“what about a bra
And are
There knickers for the male kind?”
I find
In pubs much amusement
And bemusement.
“How would he know?”
Better not to go
There I think
As I sink
My drink.
“Lady’s Knickers” beer
Would taste most queer.
I shall be boring and stick to a well known brew
Although ‘tis true
I am curious to know.
But better not to go …
Finishing my second pint, I leave.
I perceive
This incident will stay with me.
I shall with glee
Write it down
Though it be
Nothing profound.
Uneventful
All was still in the church.
No lurch
Of sudden fear
To chill
My heart
As I passed the stones where the dead sleep.
Should I create, for the sake of art
A devil with horn?
No, I am forlorn
For this year
Neither scheming demon
Nor the obscene
Fingers of the dead
Troubled my boring Halloween!
There Was A Young Lady Called Gale
There was a young lady called Gale
Whose look made hardened criminals quail.
She met a thug one night
Who, to her delight
Began to weep and wail!
If I Where A Rentier
If I where a rentier living off capital
(The very idea is laughable)!
I would retire to the moors
(with other bores)
And shoot peasants
Yes, I think that would be pleasant …!
I would terrorise the local wenches
And build high fences
To keep at bay
Those intent on stealing my wealth away.
Huge parties I would throw
And my reputation for debauchery would grow.
The vicar would pray
Lest I give his secret away
While the bishop’s innocent daughter
Would, like a lamb to the slaughter …
But I am no collector of dividends
And my efforts bend
To writing verse
Which, growing worse and worse
Will, I fear, not fill my purse …!
There Was A Young Man Called Matt
There was a young man called Matt
Who owned a very large cat.
One cold day
I regret to say
He wore it instead of a hat …!
There Was a Young God Called Mars
There was a young god called Mars
Who picked a fight in all the bars.
He grew rather pale
When they threw him in jail
As he didn’t like the bars …!
One May As Well Be Hung For A Sheep As A Lamb
It is said that one may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb. However, there being neither sheep nor lambs in the field, Tom stole the farmer’s prize cow instead.
They found Tom (or what had once constituted him) in a bloody mess in the field. Having forgotten his glasses and being extremely short sighted, he had mistook a very ill tempered bull for a mild mannered cow.
“Look on the bright side” said Mick Carmichael, down the Fox and Hounds later that evening.
“What bright side? Poor bloke was gored to death”! said Charlie Dunn.
“Well it just goes to prove what I always say – that one shouldn’t put any faith in those old sayings, as Tom wasn’t hanged for either a sheep or a lamb, but ended his days on the horns of farmer Robert’s prize bull …”! replied Mick Carmichael.
