Can anyone help with a funny poem, like "Silly old baboon"?(16 Posts)
School poetry competition coming up, Ds is dyslexic and needs something he finds an interest in to help him learn it...
He loves "Silly Old Baboon" but can't do this again, he's already done it two year's running...
Anyone know anything similar, funny and memorable-ish, this sort of length as I'm struggling....
Silly Old Baboon by Spike Milligan
There was once was a baboon
Who one afternoon
Said I think I will fly to the sun
So with two great palms
strapped to his arms
he started his takeoff run
Mile after mile
He galloped in style
But never once left the ground
You’re going too slow said a passing crow
Try reaching the speed of sound
he put on a spurt
My God how it hurt
both the soles of his feet caught on fire
As he went through a stream
There were great clouds of steam
But he still never got any higher
On and on through the night
both his knees caught alight
clouds of smoke billowed out of his rear!!!
Quick to his aid
Came the fire brigade
who chased him for over a year
Many moons passed by
Did Baboon ever fly
Did he ever get to the sun?
I’ve just heard today,
he’s well on his way
He’ll be passing through Acton at one.
PS – well, what do you expect from a baboon
My Dcs like this one
If you should meet a hairy yak,
With great sharp horns and a shaggy back,
Just smile and say, "How do you do?"
And he will say the same to you.
Don't stop to pass the time of day,
Just say, "Goodbye" and walk away.
For he can talk from dusk to dawn,
From evening 'til the early morning.
He'll chatter morning, noon and night,
From sunset to the morning light.
You see, it is a well known fact.
That Yaks, they like to Yakkety Yak!
Granny by Spike Milligan?
Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)
All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)
It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny-
But most of all, it blew on Granny!
yes I like Granny - He is supposed to recite for about a minute so I think it's a bit short....
But a great goto if we find nothing else!
Good afternoon, Sir Smasham Uppe!
We're having tea: do take a cup!
Sugar and milk? Now let me see-
Two lumps, I think?...Good gracious me!
The silly thing slipped off your knee!
Pray don't apologise, old chap;
A very trivial mishap!
So clumsy of you? How absurd!
My dear Sir Smasham, not a word!
Now do sit down and have another,
And tell us all about your brother-
You know, the one who broke his head.
Is that poor fellow still in bed?-
A chair - allow me, sir!...Great Scott!
That was a nasty smash! Eh, what?
Oh, not at all: the chair was old-
Queen Anne, or so we have been told.
We've got at least a dozen more:
Just leave the pieces on the floor.
I want you admire our view:
Come nearer to the window, do;
And look how beautiful...Tut, tut!
You didn't see that it was shut?
I hope you are not badly cut!
Not hurt? A fortunate escape!
Amazing! Not a single scrape!
And now, if you have finished tea,
I fancy you might like to see
A little thing or two I've got.
That china plate? Yes, worth a lot:
A beauty too...Ah, there it goes!
I trust it didn't hurt your toes?
Your elbow brushed it off the shelf?
Of course: I've done the same myself.
And now, my dear Sir Smasham - Oh,
You surely don't intend to go?
You must be off? Well, come again.
So glad you're fond of porcelain!
Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey.
We had nothing to do and nothing to say.
We were nearing the end of a dismal day,
And there seemed to be nothing beyond,
Daddy fell into the pond!
And everyone's face grew merry and bright,
And Timothy danced for sheer delight.
'Give me the camera, quick, oh quick!
He's crawling out of the duckweed.'
Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee,
And doubled up, shaking silently,
And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft
And is sounded as if the old drake laughed.
O, there wasn't a thing that didn't respond
Daddy fell into the pond!
COLONEL FAZACKERLEY BUTTERWORTH-TOAST
Colonel Fazackerley Butterworth-Toast
Bought an old castle complete with a ghost,
But someone or other forgot to declare
To Colonel Fazak that the spectre was there.
On the very first evening, while waiting to dine,
The Colonel was taking a fine sherry wine,
When the ghost, with a furious flash and a flare,
Shot out of the chimney and shivered, 'Beware!'
Colonel Fazackerley put down his glass
And said, 'My dear fellow, that's really first class!
I just can't conceive how you do it at all.
I imagine you're going to a Fancy Dress Ball?'
At this, the dread ghost made a withering cry.
Said the Colonel (his monocle firm in his eye),
'Now just how you do it, I wish I could think.
Do sit down and tell me, and please have a drink.'
The ghost in his phosphorous cloak gave a roar
And floated about between ceiling and floor.
He walked through a wall and returned through a pane
And backed up the chimney and came down again.
Said the Colonel, 'With laughter I'm feeling quite weak!'
(As trickles of merriment ran down his cheek).
'My house-warming party I hope you won't spurn.
You MUST say you'll come and you'll give us a turn!'
At this, the poor spectre - quite out of his wits -
Proceeded to shake himself almost to bits.
He rattled his chains and he clattered his bones
And he filled the whole castle with mumbles and moans.
But Colonel Fazackerley, just as before,
Was simply delighted and called out, 'Encore!'
At which the ghost vanished, his efforts in vain,
And never was seen at the castle again.
'Oh dear, what a pity!' said Colonel Fazak.
'I don't know his name, so I can't call him back.'
And then with a smile that was hard to define,
Colonel Fazackerley went in to dine.
Albert and the Lion is quite easy to learn, but I slightly prefer Three ha'pence a foot
I'll tell you an old-fashioned story
That grandfather used to relate,
Of a builder and joining contractor
Who's name it were Sam Oswaldthwaite.
In a shop on the banks of the Irwell
There Sam used to follow his trade,
In a place you'll have heard of called Bury
You know, where black puddings is made.
One day Sam were filling a knot hole
With putty when in through the door,
Came an old man fair reeked i'whiskers
An t'old man said good morning I'm Noah.
Sam asked Noah what were his business
And t'old chap went on to remark,
That not liking the look of the weather
He was thinking of building an ark.
He'd got all the wood for the bulwarks
And all t'other shipbuilding junk,
Now he wanted some nice birds-eye maple
To panel the sides of his bunk.
Now maple were Sam's monopoly
That means it were all his to cut,
And nobody else hadn't got none
So he asked Noah three ha'pence a foot.
A ha'penny too much replied Noah
Penny a foots more the mark,
A penny a foot and when rain comes
I'll give you a ride in my ark.
But neither would budge in the bargain
The whole thing were kind of a jam,
So Sam put his tongue out at Noah
And Noah made long bacon at Sam.
In wrath and ill-feeling they parted
Not knowing when they'd meet again,
And Sam 'ad forgot all about it
'Til one day it started to rain.
It rained and it rained for a fortnight
It flooded the whole countryside,
It rained and it still kept on raining
'Til th'Irwell were fifty miles wide.
The houses were soon under water
And folks to the roof had to climb,
They said t'was the rottenest summer
As Bury had had for some time.
The rain showed no sign of abating
And water rose hour by hour,
'Til th'only dry land were at Blackpool
and that were on top of the tower.
So Sam started swimming for Blackpool
It took him best part of a week,
His clothes were wet through when he got there
And his boots were beginning to leak.
He stood to his watch-chain in water
On tower-top just before dark,
When who should come sailing towards him
But old Noah steering his ark.
They stared at each other in silence
'Til ark were alongside all but,
Then Noah said what price yon maple
Sam answered three ha'pence a foot.
Noah said nay I'll make thee an offer
Same as I did t'other day,
A penny a foot and a free ride
Now come on lad what do thee say.
Three ha'pence a foot came the answer
So Noah his sail had to hoist,
And sail off again in a dudgeon
While Sam stood determined but moist.
So Noah cruised around flying his pigeons
'Til fortieth day of the wet,
And on his way home passing Blackpool
He saw old Sam standing there yet.
His chin just stuck out of the water
A comical figure he cut,
Noah said now what's the price of yon maple
And Sam answered three ha'pence a foot.
Said Noah you'd best take my offer
It's the last time I'll be hereabouts,
And if water comes half an inch higher
I'll happen get maple for nowt.
Three ha'pence a foot it'll cost you
And as for me Sam says don't fret,
'Skys took a turn since this morning
I think it'll brighten up yet.
From Stanley Holloway
I came on to post "daddy fell into the pond" but also there's one about a little boy who runs away from his nanny and gets eaten by a lion. Big favourite here.
It starts off "there was a boy whose name was Jim, his friends were very fond of him". I'll google it
Who ran away from his nurse
and was eaten by a lion.
There was a boy whose name was Jim
His friends were very good to him
They gave him tea and cakes and jam
And slices of delicious ham
And chocolate with pink inside
And little tricycles to ride
They read him stories through and through
And even took him to the zoo
But there it was the awful fate
Befell him, which I now relate
You know (at least you ought to know
For I have often told you so)
That children never are allowed
To leave their nurses in a crowd
Now this was Jim's especial foible
He ran away when he was able
And on this inauspicious day
He slipped his hand and ran away
He hadn't gone a yard when BANG
With open jaws a lion sprang
And hungrily began to eat
The boy, beginning at his feet
Now just imagine how it feels
When first your toes and then your heels
And then by varying degrees
Your shins and ankles, calves and knees
Are slowly eaten bit by bit
No wonder Jim detested it
No wonder that he shouted "Ai"
The honest keeper heard his cry
Though very fat, he almost ran
To help the little gentleman
"Ponto," he ordered as he came
For Ponto was the lion's name
"Ponto," he said with angry frown
"Down sir, let go, put it down!"
The lion made a sudden stop
He let the dainty morsel drop
And slunk reluctant to his cage
Snarling with disappointed rage
But when he bent him over, Jim
The honest keeper's eyes grew dim
The lion having reached his head
The miserable boy was dead
When nurse informed his parents they
Were more concerned than I can say
His mother as she dried her eyes
Said "It gives me no surprise
He would not do as he was told."
His father who was self-controlled
Bade all the children round attend
To James's miserable end.
And always keep ahold of nurse
For fear of finding something worse.
Letters to the Three Pigs (found in a Gingerbread filing cabinet, at the King of the Castle Planning Office) by Clare Bevan is funny and pretty easy to learn.
I'm assuming your DS is primary age. If he's secondary age and suffering the joys of GCSE English, he might like Very Like a Whale by Ogden Nash:
One thing that literature would be greatly the better for
Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and
Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts,
Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to
go out of their way to say that it is like something else.
What does it mean when we are told
That that Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold?
In the first place, George Gordon Byron had enough experience
To know that it probably wasn't just one Assyrian, it was a lot of
However, as too many arguments are apt to induce apoplexy and
thus hinder longevity.
We'll let it pass as one Assyrian for the sake of brevity.
Now then, this particular Assyrian, the one whose cohorts were
gleaming in purple and gold,
Just what does the poet mean when he says he came down like a
wold on the fold?
In heaven and earth more than is dreamed of in our philosophy
there are great many things.
But I don't imagine that among them there is a wolf with purple
and gold cohorts or purple and gold anythings.
No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was
actually like a wolf I must have some kind of proof;
Did he run on all fours and did he have a hairy tail and a big red
mouth and big white teeth and did he say Woof Woof?
Frankly I think it is very unlikely, and all you were entitled to say,
at the very most,
Was that the Assyrian cohorts came down like a lot of Assyrian
cohorts about to destroy the Hebrew host.
But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he
had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them,
With the result that whenever you mention Old Testament soldiers
to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of
wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.
That's the kind of thing that's being done all the time by poets,
from Homer to Tennyson;
They're always comparing ladies to lilies and veal to venison,
And they always say things like that the snow is a white blanket
after a winter storm.
Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of
snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical
blanket material and we'll see which one keeps warm,
And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly
What I mean by too much metaphor and simile.
Just wanted to thank you all for your efforts! The poems were exceedingly helpful!
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