Everything under the sun,
must mean everything;
but, what about when the Sun goes off to bed?
Everything under the Moon?
But, the Moon isn’t always there
when the Sun is off getting some shut-eye
So, when the Sun and the Moon
are off wherever they go to at night,
is there anything left?
boBeep: Hello, boBob!
boBob: Hello, boBeep!
boBeep: Where are you going to in such a hurry?
boBob: I am going to the Moon!
boBeep: The Moon?
boBob: Yes, The Moon!
boBeep: How are you getting to the Moon?
boBob: I’ve got a ticket!
boBeep: A ticket?
boBob: Yes! A ticket to the Moon.
boBeep: Oh… I’d like a ticket to the Moon.
boBob: I’ve got a spare one.
boBeep: A spare one? A spare ticket to the Moon?
boBob: Yes. I had a voucher for a BOGOF offer.
boBeep: A ‘BOGOF’ offer? For a ticket to the Moon?
boBob: Yes. I bought one ticket for the Moon, and they gave me another ticket for the Moon free.
boBeep: Free? A free ticket for the Moon?
BoBob: Well, I had to buy the first ticket, so not really ‘free’.
boBeep: Oh. How much was ‘your’ ticket?
boBob: My ticket was free.
boBeep: So, my ticket would have been at the same price?
boBob; You wish.
NB any similarities between Eccles and Bluebottle are purely of my own fault. G:)
“How Big is the Moon?”
.
The sky was so big,
the moon so small,
yellow and ridged
like a lone tennis ball
“It’s made of cheese!”
I heard someone say,
and that made my night
as it sometimes makes my day.
The Moon in May –
though not in June,
as old songs would say –
its light shining down
and showing the way.
“How big is the Moon?”
‘Quite big.’ I’d say.
Moon Over Looe.
That Moon,
over Looe,
blue, slim
with edge thin;
lost, bold, cold;
what else?
Cool dude,
nude, rude,
spin away?
Ne’er! Stay!
That Moon,
over Looe,
seen.
I’ve bought a little allotment,
an acre on the Moon,
peaceful, quiet (though the soil is none too good);
I haven’t actually been there,
I hope to get there soon.
The Moon stayed at home, tonight;
we couldn’t see her corporeal light,
the sky was dark
stars didn’t shine,
and everyone went to bed at nine.
She asked a boon,
“Could I have the Moon,
upon a bed of lettuce?”
I, thought once,
thought twice;
and gave her the Moon
on a colourful bed of rainbow rice.
Not what she wanted,
but almost as nice.
The Moon
above the trees
fluttering in the breeze –
the Moon, not the trees –
in the Lunar Wind blew away;
the tides all stopped that day.
There once was a forest upon the moon
that flourished for a while
but vanished too soon
a realm of trees upon her face
a woodland there in outer space.
And all the creatures of the trees
lived there happily, life was a breeze
Swinging through the branches high
the monkeys laughed, and then did cry;
for, when the forest realm could not rebirth,
they all fell back down to Earth.
The Moon in June
is just like the Moon
in any other month,
apart from the rhyme,
of course.
The Moon In June
is just like the Hay in May,
or the Starch in March,
for example.
The Moon In June
is currently appearing in a
showing of Noël Coward’s ‘Present Laughter’
at the Aldwych Theatre
allegedly.
The Moon In June
will be back
all too soon.
Graeme Sandford 