The Wampanoag
isn’t near to extinction,
has never done an unpraiseworthy deed in its non-life;
or won a badge of distinction;
but, has lived a life of blameless charm.
if you ever meet one, please let me know,
what one looks like,
and how big it will grow.
Until then, I shall refrain from purchasing a Wampanoag –
and, by doing so, it will surely do me no harm.
If I remember correctly
the last laugher laughs longest;
but, I could be wrong –
memory serves me well,
or not,
as it sees fit.
And, IIRC,
he who hesitates
is lost –
or found,
as my feet touch the ground,
or leave it.
“Throwaway Haikus
are hardly worth the paper
they are written on!”
Citrus burst fits the rhyme,
as we all shout: “It’s ‘Lemon Thyme!”
Apeel and chime, do the crime;
as we are shouting, “Lemon Thyme!”
Sail upon the vitamin C,
Herbidacious, obviously,
“Free the Lemons, if they’ve done their time,
and we are shouting, “Lemon Thyme!”
Limoncello plays the tune,
werewolf howls at light of Moon,
flibberty-gibbet all too soon;
are deciphering an ancient tune,
to be played upon a big bassoon.
“It’s Lemon Thyme!”
Nobody likes me,
everybody hates me,
just ‘cause I eat words;
long thin hairy ones,
short fat juicy ones,
bite all the sense off,
take all the meaning out,
is what I do with words.
I’ve got my Monday socks on,
on a Friday:
I’m a rebel,
I’m a rebel.
I told you it was Friday,
when it’s really Saturday:
I’m a rebel,
I’m a rebel.
In actual fact
it’s a Monday
I’m a rebel,
I’m a rebel.
and I’m not wearing any socks –
I’m a rebel,
I’m a rebel,
I’m a fib-telling,
non-sock-wearing,
little rebel.
(Please do try singing to your local cows, horses, goats, pigs, llamas, etceteras, etc.)
I sing to the cows,
they don’t mock me, and say,
“Have you ever tried rhyming,
or miming away’;
then they thank me for singing,
‘Please have a nice day,ay,ay.’
And I say,
‘How now, brown cow,
how are you today?
You munch on the grass,
time does pass,
and then you’ll move away.
How now, black and white cow,
how are things with you?
Is it a day
for sitting down,
there on the morning dew?
I sing to the cows,
they don’t mock me, and say,
“Have you ever tried rhyming,
or miming away’;
then they thank me for singing,
‘Please have a nice day,ay,ay.’
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