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Nature's Voice
Nature calls to us in spring,
To bird and beast - each living thing.
Flowers and trees will grace the land
Where she has lain her fruitful hand.
T'was in the spring the day I found
A nook where beauty doth abound,
And there before an ivied wall,
Stood quiet to answer nature's call.
The Bird That Flew In Ever Diminishing Circles
An incredible thing,
to a bird on the wing,
I've heard
has occurred.
One minute was there,
circling 'round in the air,
a'singing a song,
then suddenly gone.
A mystery wierd
where that bird disappeared.
Where did it go?
Does anyone know?
People Eaters
The jungle beasts had called a meeting
to exchange thoughts on food and eating.
A short agenda was decided,
the king of beasts, the lion presided.
The Leopard was the first to speak
said, "food gets scarcer week by week
and something must be surely done
before our sustenance is gone."
The Panther pawed a playful cub,
sighed, "it's very hard to find good grub,
I'm partial to a nice Scotch fillet
cooked medium rare upon a skillet,
but Scotsmen with or without kilt
are now as rare as ostrich milk,
and my dietician
warns never eat a politician,
for she says, they even make
human beings regurgitate."
The Tiger said, "Well this is true
but I prefer an Irish Stew,
yet Irishmen it's sad to say,
rarely come around my way.
My closest friend, a tiger who
now resides in Sydney Zoo
say's human flesh, fresh or preserved
is never, ever cooked and served,
no, not a morsel, scrap or bit,
he almost lost the taste for it
until a tourist neared his cage,
now tourist eating's all the rage."
The Puma shook her silken head,
"I like an English Roast " she said,
but Englishmen don't make the bungle
of straying in MY patch of jungle,
one really has to shop around
and search for every single pound.
It's sickening to have to beg
for just a simple arm or leg,
especially when one hears them say
that they would GIVE the things away."
The Lion roared - held up a paw,
growled, " I prefer my protein raw
and folks can rant and they can rave
of cooking in the microwave
but I maintain you cannot beat,
a juicy hunk of blood red meat.
Scottish, Irish, white or black,
they all go down a tasty snack
and one things certain, if I'M there,
I'll always get the lions share!"
He closed his eyes and off he dozed
and at that point, the meeting closed.
 Solo
He looks at me with soft, brown eyes
That melts my heart, and then he sighs
And rests his head upon my knee
And turns his soulful gaze on me.
The rough, wet tongue that licks my hands
The bark that says he understands
The paw that lifts in supplication
The eyes so filled with adoration.
But wait! - that dog is at my plate
He stole my meal, my T-bone steak
Oh! you worthless, selfish wretch
Who will not heel and will not fetch
Who does not heed me when I call
Leaves muddy tracks along the hall
And sneaks into my fresh made bed
Leaves hair and slobber on the spread
Who gulps his food in seconds flat
And then is sick upon the mat
And yet without a pause will then
Proceed to gulp it down again
And I don't think it's very nice
To gulp your food and eat it twice.
Oh, you filthy, flea-bound creature
Can I find one worthwhile feature
This time'll save you from the pound
You loathsome, faithless, rotten hound!
He looks at me with soft, brown eyes
That melts my heart, and then he sighs
The lashing tail and wringling bottom
Means all my anger is forgotten.
Mary's Lamb
Mary had a lamb real small,
That wouldn't leave her side at all,
It disobeyed the teachers rule
And followed her each day to school.
It seemed to have a thirst for words,
Big, fat nouns and juicy verbs,
So it ate up all the books
Then gave the teacher sheepish looks.
It wouldn't even use the bathroom,
Left little messes in the classroom
The teacher strongly disapproved
And had the smelly creature moved.
Now Mary's dad's bought her a horse
And Mary's mom's made fresh mint sauce
And all of Mary's class and clan,
Have all had Mary's small white lamb.
Footnote:
Is it true the lamb so small
Just wouldn't fill her classmates all?
Was hungry Mary heard to say,
She can't ride horses anyway
And didn't really want a horse
But rather have a second course?
And is it just a wicked fable
That now she's got an empty stable?
Ned (The Budgerigar)
Ned the 'budgie' came to stay
(While grandson went on holiday.)
He'd sit his perch and screech and squawk
Yet never would he try to talk
So I resolved that in one week,
I'd teach that noisy bird to speak.
Seven long days I plied that bird
With rhythmic metered verse I'd heard,
Lots of Shakespeare, jokes and news,
Some rocking songs of Rap and Blues.
My wife laughed loud and long each day,
"You silly bugger John," she'd say.
'Twas when I whispered my last joke,
My voice was gone, I could but croak.
Tired and spent and clumsy, lurched,
Against the cage in which Ned perched,
And Ned went crashing to the ground
With cage and feathers strewn around.
His stricken voice came from the wreck
"To be or not to be by heck,
Wherefore art thou, clumsy beggar
Knocketh off not one more feather,
Hast heard the joke about this freak
Who tried to teach this bird to speak?
In truth thy wife she was not wrong,
Thou art a silly bugger John."
Food for Thought
Mother sheep said to her son,
"One day my lamb I will be gone
And as you now are nearly two
I think I need to talk with you.
I know it's always been your plan
To grow to be a fine young ram,
But think my son, is there a future
In a life that may not suit you?
Your dear old Dad I have to boast,
Became the finest prime, Crown Roast
And Auntie Maggie - bless her soul,
Retired a tasty Casserole.
Then of course, your cousin Di
Grew up to be a choice Lambs Fry,
While as for me - when I am able,
I'll get my legs on someone's table.
Your Dad and I had plans for you,
A Rack of Lamb, an Irish Stew.
Careers for sheep tend to be short,
Perhap's Lamb Chops would be a thought.
Now if you're very, very good
You could grow up to be a rug,
A lambswool blanket for a stroller,
Or think of this - a nice paint roller."
The little lamb cried out in glee,
"Oh mommy, that's the life for me."
And gambolled off beside his ma
To book in at the abbatoir.
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