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My Granny Said

My Granny said
My granddad ougter
Put his teeth
In a glass of water

But every night
Between me and you
He always puts them
In his shoe

© Ray Ford

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© Rachel Wiggans

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The Dung Beetle Roll

I like to roll dung,
all that I can get.
I can roll it dry
but I'd rather have it wet.
I roll it with my arms,
I roll it on my head,
I give it to the kids
to see that they are fed.

I dig it, rake it, roll it, shape it -
that's what I do all day.
I dig it, rake it, roll it, shape it -
it's just my little way

I roll it to a ball,
to get it nice and round,
then to make it hard,
I roll it on the ground.
I roll it from a horse,
and I roll it from a cow.
I bury it well
as only I know how.

I dig it, rake it, roll it, shape it -
that's what I do all day.
I dig it, rake it, roll it, shape it -
it's just my little way.

I need to roll dung,
otherwise that heap,
would pile right up
past knee deep.
I like to roll dung,
It's what I like to do.
And if keeps it right away
from the likes of you.

I dig it, rake it, roll it, shape it -
that's what I do all day.
I dig it, rake it, roll it, shape it -
it's just my little way.

© Helen Clare

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The Caretaker

Our caretaker, a Mr. Tool,
Lives in a cupboard in our school
Where every night he stays awake
To mend the things that people break.

He nukes the cobwebs, buffs the floors,
Downloads the gum, unsticks doors,
Removes graffiti from the bog,
Records the culprits in his log.

His cameras survey the grounds,
Motion responsive, Dolby sound.
He counts each rope, each bat, each ball
That damages the playground wall.

In holidays the school is clean,
Fingermark free with space-age gleam.
His step is high, his grin is firm.
He crashes half way through the term.

With jerky hands his pincer grip
Strangles the boy whose fingertip,
Computer matched, has chocolate stained
The corner of a window pane.

The classroom teacher looks away,
Spreading more glue on her display
In case its lentil collage drops
And infiltrates his tidy mops.

A swivel neck with robot eyes,
Tool™ is an android in disguise
The Head invented in IT.
She says next year she'll programme me.

© Terri Eynon

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……………….Moon and Sky

……….moon follows through indigo night,
……………..tie-dyed skies swirl
….burnt orange, crimson, indigo, lilac, pearl gray
……………...stars not yet visible
……….."I call you stars--shine for me!"
………………….she inhales
……….leaf trembles on honeysuckle vine
………………….she exhales
……..clouds open to reveal dog star barking

…………… .…..© Terrie and Willow Relf

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Abigail Anna Applebee

Abigail Anna Applebee borrowed
Billy Beetlebink's coffee colored cardigan,
dancing daintily downtown
eating Easter eggs.

Forgetting father's foolishness,
'Gail gave Granny happy, heartfelt hugs
icily ignoring Iggy Jigglepig's
joyful juggling.

Kenneth kindly kissed
Lulu's lazy lizard.

Madcap MaryMae Mashmutton
nicknamed Nester's newt Oily Oscar
or perhaps Papaya Pete,
quaintly quibbling quietly recalling
rather richly sister Sassafras's song,
"Tommy Tijuana's Tacos",
urging urban ukulele vendors
various visits with witchdoctors who
x-rayed xylophone xyphoids (!?!)
yet yelling yonder "zany zestful zebras!"

© Maryann Hazen-Stearns

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Barney and Mister Scratchit

My brother Barney bought a mouse
and named it Mister Scratchit,
the mouse escaped - got clean away
and nobody could catch it.

The rodent rampaged through the house,
it nibbled, gnawed and worried
holes in almost everything -
it shredded, chewed and scurried

from room to room and left a trail
of damage and destruction
until our dad decided he'd
invest in pest reduction.

Not Rentakill but Dialadope -
the bait was cheddar, nobbled
so mouse would snack then fall asleep
once the first chunk was gobbled.

But Mister Scratchit sniffed the cheese,
suspicious and unsure,
then flicked his tail and darted off
to go and live next door.

Now Barney has another pet -
a goldfish known as Bubble -
who's not quite so much fun as mouse
but has been far less trouble.

© Jean Harvey

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Always Eat Your Bogies

Always eat your bogies,
Don’t wipe them on your clothes,
Just gulp them down in one
As you pick them from your nose

For they’re full of crunchy goodness,
They’re best when green and long,
So always eat your bogies
And you’ll grow up big and strong.

from: Always Eat Your Bogies, The King's England Press

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Nigel and Frank

Nigel the frog was in need of a snog
To turn him into a prince.
But it wasn’t a joke that he had a high croak
And walked with a bit of a mince.

Girl frogs were just not appealing, but he did get a tingly feeling
Whenever his friend Frank hopped by,
And he really enjoyed the evenings they’d spend,
Sucking on a fly.

Nigel decided he loved Frank a lot,
So much so, he thought he’d give girl frogs the hop.
He asked Frank to marry him, Frank gave the reply:
"Ribbit! Croak! Ribbit!" with a tear in his eye.

It was the finest frog wedding you’ve ever seen,
The groom looked great and the bride wore green.
They were joined together by a newt called Roy
And both the frogs jumped for joy.

The day worked out so perfectly,
The food, the guests, the weather,
Then Nigel and Frank left for the river-bank
Where they moved into a pad together.

from: Bitey the Veggie Vampire, The King's England Press
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Compiling Editor: Helen Clare

Associate Editors: Gerald England, Maryann Hazen-Stearns

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