There once was a bat, upside down
whose smile was perceived as a frown;
she now cries as she hangs,
people shy from her fangs
and call her a miserable clown.
There was a young man named Trelawny
Who could rarely stifle a yawn,
He tried and he tried,
Leant his head to one side,
Drank a glass of water,
Breathed in (and out) of a paper bag,
Then held his breath for a week
(Narrowly avoiding death)
Then realised that he didn’t have hiccoughs,
And just needed to get to bed earlier.
That silly young man named Trelawny.
There was an old lady from Fowey*
Who wished that she’d been born a boy;
Ken as her name;
Playing the rough-tumble game;
But, as Barbie she was purely a toy.
*Fowey in Cornwall is pronounced ’Foy’.
The forger did forget he was forged
Ate an apple until he was gorged
Copied a copious amount
To a bank note account
There once was a man from St. Ives
Who was said to have had too many wives;
He said “Don’t be daft!
“How many is too many?” he laughed.
So we shall leave them to get on with their lives.
There once may be is a young lady from Camborne
Who will one day have now might have then looked like a little new lamb born
She soon used to jump over future fences
In all the wrong pasture tenses
And one day she could have will have had would of will have been to be about to have been and may be shorn.
There was an old man from Truro
Who bought a second-hand bureau
When he got it home
Through its drawers he did roam
And found a pin and a Euro.
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