Tag Archives: Funny

The Multipack Song

The Multipack Song

Sometimes you just see words written down somewhere and they jump out at you in a perfectly formed song…. this is one example of that:

G. C. D

“Not to be sold separately,

G. C. G. C

Multipack, multipack;

G. C. D

Not to be sold separately,

G. C. G. C

Multipack, multipack,

D. C. G

Multi, multi, pack!!!”

Dr Wholittle and the Planet of Verbeaux Sanimaux.

Dr Wholittle and the Planet of Verbeaux Sanimaux.

It was a quiet day on Verbeaux Sanimaux when the Doctor arrived – the Tardis causing some unexpected excitement, that nobody was expecting.

The dust had barely settled around the (time and relative dimension in space) craft, before the planet’s welcoming committee (of three ducks and a black and white cow) had arranged themselves to greet the visitor (or visitors).

The Doctor opened the door of the strange blue spaceship, and leapt from within, to without.

“Hi, and hello!” he carolled.

The ducks and the cow – observing Verbeaux Sanimaux’s quaint, and old-fashioned, tradition – launched into the three-hour long spiel, that was designed to test the fettle and the mettle of newcomers to their planet.

“Oh, what a night!”

“Oh, what a night!”

There’s, a, seagull on me head,

and a pasty in me bed,

and I can’t remember what I did,

or said, last night –

and nothing seems to be, quite right.

There’s an anchor on the wall,

and a lobster in the hall,

and I can’t remember where I was,

or who with, last night –

and nothing seems to be, quite right.

I’ve a lifeboat in me drive,

and me oilskins number five,

and I can’t remember how I got them;

it must have been a night, last night –

and nothing seems to be, quite right.

The boat upon my lawn,

seems lonely and forlorn,

and I can’t remember if it’s mine,

it seems to have a Falmouth number

It must have been such a night, last night –

and nothing seems to be,

in any way,

quite right.

Knock! Knock!

Knock! Knock!

Knock! Knock!

Who’s there?

Cerys! Now hurry up and open this door or I shall kick the uggin’ thing in!

Cerys who?

Cerys Mattick! Now come on and open up this froggin’ door!

Ogden Nash’s ‘The Termite’

Ogden Nash’s ‘The Termite’

Ogden Nash’s ‘The Termite’ with audio

Some primal termite knocked on wood 
And tasted it, and found it good! 
And that is why your Cousin May 
Fell through the parlor floor today.

by Ogden Nash

Taken from PoemHunter.com

“One Pun Too Few?”

“One Pun Too Few?”

“We live in the “Duchy”not the “Ducky’” i said.

But, he was still chortling over “The Duckys!” comment that he had overused to the point of distraction.

That’s the thing about Grae, he never quite knows when a joke has gone past it’s ‘Best by…’ date. And ‘Use before…’ also, makes little sense to him.

No wonder he is often greeted by the blank stares of incomprehension, and then had to climb up them, reaching the very top, only to find, that at the bottom of the stares had been the place to stop.

And on with the next pun, please.

“Man goes, in a fruit shop….”

Season’s Greetings!

Season’s Greetings!

My first Christmas

was almost my last;

and last Christmas

was our first in Cornwall.

The past is behind us

the future ahead;

we learn how to live

‘cause one day we dead.

Swipe Left

Swipe Left

A cat’s body

and a pharaoh’s head;

what is that all about?

Swipe left.

A Silly Poem Just For You.

I was discovered

in a cupboard

nearly forty years later;

I had hidden:

nobody had sought.

I thought

that that

would be the end of it;

but, no;

it caused so much of a fuss

that they had to fill a bus

with melted snow,

just so they could say they had;

times were bad,

though, at times, times

we’re not so bad

as they had been,

or we’re going to be –

although, sometimes, they were.

We, as a community,

do not have total immunity

from sharing a sense of déjà vu;

you, on the other hand,

have no toes,

and a nose

which never glows.

A Short Story

Once upon a time…

… there was a short story.

It wasn’t long at all;

and it wasn’t at all tall.

So short it was,

and set out so,

that it thought it was a poem;

but, it wasn’t.

It didn’t have much to say;

but, one day,

under the bluest of skies,

It left it’s home

and went off to seek fame and fortune.

Finding neither,

the short story settled down

with an extract from Coleridge’s Mariner,

and they lived happily ever after.