Sometimes It’s Better By Bus… by Mike Harding

Why does the hirsute chimpanzee

Swing pendulous from tree to tree?

He thinks it probably less fuss

Than waiting for the hippopotabus.

And yet the hungry anaconda

Through the trees is known to wander

Though the jungle bus is often late

It’s better than being ate.

by Mike Harding

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There Was A Young Lady From Ickenham by Anon

There was a young lady from Ickenham

Who went on a bus-trip to Twickenham.

She drank too much beer,

Which made her feel queer,

So she took off her boot and was sick-in-’em.

by Anon.

What Seems To Be The Trouble? by Raymond Wilson

Cupping his hands behind both ears,
He bawled, ‘What’s that you say?’
‘Which is your good ear – left or right?’
‘The ninth,’ he said. ‘… Of May.’

‘How long,’ I asked, ‘have they been like this?’
He boomed, ‘6 Primrose Hill.’
‘And are they painful?’ ‘Come June,’ he roared,
‘I’ll be eighty, so I will.’

‘There’s wax enough in your ears,’ I joked,
‘To polish a table-top with.’
‘You’re all mixed up,’ he bellowed back,
‘I’m Ron (not Reggie) Smith.’

I scooped the hard wax from his ears,
Then rinsed them sweet and clean.
‘Now, Mr Smith,’ I said, ‘you’ll find them
As good as they’ve ever been.’

‘But you’ve not tested them!’ he said
Softly, with mild surprise.
‘I’ve no complaint about my ears.
I’m troubled with my eyes!’

 

by Raymond Wilson

Fishy Poems by Max Flatchen

I wonder at the jellyfish

That like to drift and drowse

And seem to wear without a care

A kind of see-through blouse.

A fish had remarked to a chip,

‘unless we give them the slip,

When the fat starts to fry

I’m afraid it’s goodbye

And it won’t be a very nice trip.’

A hungry shark some bathers eyed,

His wife said in the spray,

‘How would you like your food, my dear,

Eat here or takeaway?’

by Max Fatchen