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Some like gummy bears, Some do not. Some say they're good for teeth, Others say they'll rot. Well have you tried the gummy slug? You really need to try. They're fresh from my garden, Slimy, sticky - good to fry! Blah!
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Green, slimy and sticky to the touch, Clever, cunning and able to speak Dutch. Quiet, agile and lovely to hug, Loyal, obedient the Elias Zapple slug. Three blind mice. Three blind mice. See how they run. See how they run. They all ran after the farmer's wife and got lost. Well, they are blind. There is a new fairy People beware, She’s golden and hairy And lures kids to her lair. This is not a normal fairy Oh you must believe, The fairy’s name is Mary, And she killed the slug, Steve. She’s into magic and potions And Goblins and such, She’s mixing a new one That’ll make you speak Dutch. Come to think of it This doesn’t seem right, Let me get back to you Before twilight… Later… Mary sounds more like a witch Than she does a fairy, That would explain Why her legs are so hairy. She flies on dragons Rather than brooms, They’re under her spell Cause she feeds ‘em magic mushrooms. She does have wings And they work just fine, But a slug attacked her And damaged her spine. Now Mary’s a granny Dear children take flight, For if she catches you You’ll be stew tonight. Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men had already put a soft mattress there to cushion the fall and so Humpty Dumpty was quite okay.  A rat, not King Rat King Rat was a bald and rather troubled creature, His face had warts that was one feature. His eyesight was poor he had trouble to see, Something that thankfully doesn’t afflict me. His ears were big his nose was long, His backbone was indeed not very strong. For whenever he faced a problem he always ran, This was a rather pathetic old man. It got so bad he ended up alone, No one to turn to just his mirror to moan. There was however something else he had, Lots of money that drove him rather mad. Mad because he became so insecure, And for this my friends there is no cure. His love of money knew no bounds, He had a nose for it like a hound. His talent for it was quite startling, His desire however was disheartening. For what is money when you have no friends, No one to be with no reason to spend? Indeed he shunned those around, Forcing him to live underground. And this is where he remains, Decrepit, alone in much pain. Sharing his life with Baccarat, Crystal, clothes an expensive car. Covering face with a tilted hat, The unfortunate life of King Rat. My puppy’s name is Dave He’s blue, white and green, I don’t know if that’s true He’s never been seen. Yes he’s imaginary I made him up it’s true, ‘Cause I’m lonely And tangled up in blue. I imagine he’s nice That he’d never bark, We’d have fun together And play in the park. He’d bite the postman That would be rad, Pee on the rug Make my mum go mad. When I shout fetch He’d shake his head ‘no’, Turn away from me Making me go. On second thoughts That doesn’t sound good, Why can’t he go And fetch the stick of wood? Dave is a bad puppy He chews my shoes, Covers them in drool Which is stickier than glue. The puppy has to go The dream must end, He was sweet for a while Till he drove me round the bend. On a mountain lives an Antelope, Sifts his nose through the rocks foraging for food. Can’t find any, he moves on, Clickety clock, clickety clock. In a mountain cave is where he lives, A rock for a pillow is how he sleeps. But he can’t, so he moves on, Clickety clock, clickety clock. On a mountaintop is where he sits, Looking around, surveying his habitat in case of hunters. Can’t find any, he moves on, Clickety clock, clickety clock. In a mountain pool is where he bathes, The vast warm water cleanses, helps him relax. But he can’t, so he moves on, Clickety clock, clickety clock. On a mountainside is where he works, Helps his fellow animal friends survive by watching out for them. Can’t find any, he moves on, Clickety clock, clickety clock. In a mountain stream is where he drinks, The cold flow of water helps cool him down. But he can’t, so he moves on, Clickety clock, clickety clock. On a mountainside the Antelope walks into a trap, He hears a gunshot, bang, he gets hit in the back. His heartbeat slows, he moves on, Clickety clock, clickety thud. |
Elias ZappleSurplus rhymes from 'Elias Zapple's Rhymes from the Cabbage Patch' that were sitting, gathering dust and getting mouldy. Archives
November 2015
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