Worm, worm, worry-wart
Wriggling underground.
What should worms be worried for,
Hiding safe and sound?
If it were not for just one thing
They’d all be happy fellows:
But here’s what really worries worms:
They haven’t any elbows.
“Yes, yes, yes!” yells young Yvonne,
Yelling loudly all day long
Yelling, yowling, yelping, howling,
In the kitchen, on the lawn,
Caterwauling in the hallway,
“Yes, yes, yes!” from dusk till dawn;
Yelling till her mother wonders,
“How long can this noise go on?”
Yelling till her father tells her,
“Yes, all right! Go on, Yvonne!
Do what you wish, do what you want to,
Only please stop yelling so!”
But Yvonne cries, “No, no, no!”
Flying floating free and slow
High or in between or low
Flying’s easy if you try
Take two steps and grab the sky
Flying all last night I found
Air is friendlier than ground
Flying slower than the wind
I took the moonlight in my hand
Flying through the midnight trees
I left the moonlight on the leaves
Flying must have been a dream
But that’s not the way it seemed.
Billy blew a bubble
With a piece of bubblegum.
Betty blew a bubble too.
Baby wanted some.
Baby chewed and Baby blew
Bit by bit by bit by bit;
The bubble grew, and grew… and grew…
Baby wouldn’t quit.
One day Baby’s got to stop
Or else that bubble has to pop.
King Kevin
Rides a kangaroo.
King Kevin
Dines on kumquat stew.
King Kevin
Looks a lot like you.
He does not know what else
to do.
Poor king, poor king, poor king.
Plink, plank, plop
A house without a top.
The dog’s all wet
The cat’s upset
They wish the rain would stop.
Plank, plop, plink
Puddles in the sink.
This rain’s gone on
So very long
It should stop soon, I think.
Plink, plop, plank
The goldfish in the tank
Just swim and stare
And they don’t care.
Plink, plop, plank.
Ivory, ice and India ink,
Dirty water from the sink,
Ivy and an ibis feather.
Mix these things all up together
Put them in an iron pot.
With a few things I forgot
Then recite a magic spell
Of words that no one knows too well.
Stir it with a bunch of leeks
For a day and seven weeks
Until it starts to stink.
Then drink.
It might taste like a giant squid.
It might taste like an Irish stew.
It might make you invisible
Or it might turn you blue;
It might make you very, very tall.
It might turn you into nothing at all.
It might turn you into a banyan tree.
But if it does, please don’t blame me.
Oh, an Octopus is just the thing
When you’re out of string.
Yes, instead of a ball of twine
An Octopus works fine.
Last Christmas Eve I got a box
Done up in Octopus-knots.
It’s nicely tied — there’s even a bow.
But what’s inside? I still don’t know.
The Octopus
won’t
let
go.
Debbie drew a dancing dog
On the wall, in the hall
Debbie sang a magic song
To the air, on a dare
Then the dog danced off the wall
On the floor, through the door
It danced into the living room
Jitterbugged, on the rug
The dog danced up, the dog danced down
Here and there, on the chair
The dog danced with the plates and cups
With the ladle, on the table
The dog danced up to Debbie’s brother
But he cried, tried to hide
So the dog danced out the door
On the lawn, then was gone.
Hugh is huge and hairy
And scary
He has too many teeth
And bad breath
He likes to eat old bones
And sleep on stones.
And sometimes when the moon is out
He likes to run about
And shout.
“Hello!” Hugh hollers, “How are you?”
But no one says Hello to Hugh.
Would you?
Bag of Anything 