A practical joker from Dundee
Would spike drinks with the greatest of glee.
Despite this indulgence
He got his come-uppance
When six viagra were dissolved in his tea.
He loved to play tricks on his friends,
But he came to a quite sticky end
When, unforetold by him,
His demise was quite grim –
He fell in a vat of pitchblende.
A knight called Sir Galahad,
Said,” How jolly I am and so glad,
That before I was virtuous
Solicitous and courteous,
I was really a bit of a lad.”
A bigoted windbag from Leeds,
Says words are more potent than deeds.
To prove he is wrong
I will stick a large prong
Up his mammoth rear end till it bleeds.
An obese old loudmouth from Crewe,
Who always knew better than you,
Found the encumbrance
Of his girth and circumference
Just grew and it grew and it grew.
6. Dame Edith Sitwell once said
Of the poems which loudly she read,
“I don’t like to be bragging,
But I’ve invented rapping,
I’ll become a renowned talking head.”
An irascible lady from Nice
Said to me ‘Will this noise ever cease?
I know you’re a dear,
But if a pin drop I hear
I’ll cut you to bits piece by piece.”
Said the doc, in his diagnosis,
“I’ve noticed in giving my prognosis,
Your ears have grown long,
You’ve got whiskers which pong,
I’m predicting myxomatosis.”
The misogynist said to his wife,
“Now let’s not have any strife;
Just do as I say,
Then we’ll both find a way
To live a harmonious life.”
The Poet: WHB – 2020
Three Petulant Poets
There once was a poet from Ross
Who said “Do not mess with me, cos,
I will write you a verse
Which will contain a curse,
And you’ll never get over the loss.”
An Indian poet from Mysore
Said, “Do not mess with me, or,
I will write you a verse,
And you’ll soon need a hearse,
To take you to knock on Hell’s door.”
A poet from Irish Killarney
Had kissed that famed stone at Blarney.
He wrote endless verses
All riddled with curses,
Enough to frighten an army.