Tag Archives: song

Never turn your back on Middle Earth

‘’Never turn your back on Middle Earth’

he almost sang;

but I altered it a tad,

as I do,

because that is what I do.

I tweak, and adjust, just a little,

to make a new and,

possibly, improved version.

Who really knows?

Georgie Porgie

Georgie Porgie went to an orgy,

and blushed the whole way home;

because Georgius Porgius was an Italian

that had never before been to Rome.

Talk to me

Talk to me, talk to me slowly

when you need my thoughts;

remind you me, once on a time

please prompt old me, but why?

How many tractors?

How many tractors

could you attract,

If you had a large magnet

and a bucketful of tact?


One tractor,

two tractors,

three tractors,


Do you think that you could

attract any more?

It’s that time again (or is it?)

It’s that time again

time to rhyme again

na na hey hey hey




NB if you know the song, it helps to get the rhythm – Bananarama – Na na hey hey.

Float like a bee, sing like a butterfly

I had to rescue the bee

from the bowl of water that he

had landed in for a drink;

at least he knew how to float –

or had forgotten how to sink.

He dried off and flew away,

a torrid tale to tell;

but at least his day was getting better –

it hadn’t been going well.


All this caused the singing butterflies

to entertain us with a chorus of ‘Que Sera Sera’,

and a verse of ‘Wannabee’

(in the key of B) were heard;

with accompanying harmonies

from every local bird –

except the crows;

who knows if they could have

added small delights

or sleepless nights –

I’m thinking probably the latter.


So, all in all,

it turned out okay,

with the beautiful singing,

and the rescued bee safely serenaded upon his way.

Chorus song

They sang the chorus,

and mumbled the verses;

if only they had learned more words.

Mumble, mumble, shouty, shouty!

Mumble, mumble mumble;

shout, shout, and end with a scream.

I wish that I could go to sleep,

and wake up from a peaceful dream.

A song of age

It’s been a month now,

and I never saw the change;

but, when years have passed,

and as I near my last,

looking back just seems so strange.

Still fifteen in my head,

but my body disagrees,

time has not been kind,

I still have mind,

but there are tremors in my knees.


Older every day,

more late November

than early May,

and the years speed up

as I slow down,

there is a ticking clock

whose alarm is set,

and, yet, I try not to frown…

swimming with too many negative emotions,

you are more likely to drown.

This is not…

This is not a haiku,

or a love song –

so deal with it.

“Oh, Buzzy Bee!”

“Oh, Buzzy Bee,

come back to me,

this silence is an agony;

please return, and set me free,

I’m imprisoned without your lullabee!”