Nonsense Rhymes


On giants' shoulders have I stepped
to gather in the morning sun
and later, after having slept,
I contemplate what I have done.

 Adam and Eve 

Adam and Eve and the king of the prophets
Went to the palace for tea

Adam and Eve wore their best Sunday fig leafs
The prophet?  Seersucker wore he

A Morality Tale

A grievous sin he doth commit
who tryeth to get by with wit.

Forsooth, the truth I'm sad to say
belongeth not to those who play.

Gadzooks, it looks like those who pray
will doeth best on Judgement Day.

 An Ode to Lost Love

When last we met
our love was strong
but now, my pet,
your face is wrong.

Baby Talk

Talk to me in baby talk.
I'm overcome by sticker shock.
Just one more time around the block

and then I'm staying after school.
I'm teacher's pet and no one's fool.
I'm so hot I'm Mister Cool,
so like as not I'll shoot some pool
then contemplate the golden rule

and lay me down to die a while.
Invigorate me with a smile
and do not dare to touch that dial

or soon you'll miss your loving boy
who more than once has brought you joy

and does not care to rendezvous
with anyone who looks like you
except your sister Mary Lou.


May the morning sun enfold you
in the warmth of its embrace
while your lover runs to hold you
and your days be filled with grace.

Just remember what I told you.
Be a credit to your race.
May the bill of goods they sold you
disappear without a trace.

Bob's Benediction

May the sun shine on your mornings
and your fields be warm and green.
Let the sky above your head be azure blue.
May you heed the grumbled warnings
of the troubled gray machine
and escape the dangers waiting there for you.

When the north wind takes his pleasure
in the darkness of the night,
the black angel has designs upon your head,
may you quickly take his measure
in the evening's hollow light
and find yourself at home and safe in bed.

California Dreaming  

I used to like the Brooklyn Dodgers.
I once was friends with Mr. Rogers.
But California ain't so good.
It's not the same old neighborhood.


I go where angels fear to tread.
I rise each day before the dawn.
I'm loud enough to wake the dead.
My bank account is overdrawn.

My name is whispered on the wind.
My face is plastered on the wall.
I cannot seem to find a friend.
You have to walk before you crawl.

Crotch Sounds

Bully, bully
Wild and woolly
Wind me like you wind a watch

Hubba, hubba
Kiss me, Bubba
Time to crank it up a notch

Tico, tico
Sneak a peak-o
Drinking up my favorite scotch

Now I gotcha
Let's get touchin'
Put a blot
On my escutcheon

Mercy, mercy
Take me, Circe
Throw me like a bocce ball

Bought myself a swatch of cotton
"otch" rhymes gone or else forgotten
I've botched this poem, crotch and all


Of love I give a measured dose,
intimacy's price, gladly paid.
Some of these and some of those,
pleasure's silent serenade.

And in return, here's what I ask,
a hand to hold, a kiss to give.
Gently wakened to the task,
I stand here bold, one life to live.


It's time to dance the wild fandango
take a chance and munch a mango.
Crunch a bunch of dipsy doodles.
Garnish them with pasta noodles.

Seven times I hit the sack
and seven times it hit me back.
Now I sit here tired and bruised.
My mind is wired to be abused.

I once aspired to be amused
but now I find it's just too hard.
I am resigned like Kierkegaard
to wandering the boulevard

and pondering the universe,
a victim of the mummy's curse.
The bad times now are turning worse.
The good times but a memory,

a shadow of what used to be.
So come my dear and dance with me.
Let me absorb your energy.
I'll twirl with you until the dawn

and then, my girl, suppress a yawn.
The world undresses on the lawn.
A single kiss and I am gone.


Elemental my dear Watson
park your Datsun in the hot sun

jetsam, flotsam
get some, got some

but what's a flot and what's a jet
you sot, you ain't seen nothing yet

I bet that only yachtsmen spots 'em.


Tell me the truth, Dr. Ruth
Was it as good for me as it was for you?

Are you laying back or are you coming too?
Are you playing dead or are you coming to?
Was once enough or are you coming two?

Come fly with me you hunk of burning sex
Beware of aftershocks or negative side effects


Help me Hannah, hang my head.
Have a heart and come to bed.

Huddle up with Uncle Fred
and cuddle in with baby Ted.
I can't remember what I said

but it sounded too simplistic.
Let's all move down to Mystic

and wander round the rocky coast,
raise a glass and drink a toast.
I'm normally not one to boast

but bragging just don't make it so,
so hold on tight and don't let go.

Just spend the night and fill my soul
with silent sounds
and make me whole by leaps and bounds

and tie me down with masking tape.
Do not allow me to escape.
I'll spend the night until it's right
then turn around and head for home
if only I can find my comb

and brush my hair.
So have a care or two or three
and spend the night with only me.


Extricate me if you please,
my mind is caught, my hands are not,

but I've been taught to bend to reason
and it's so hot this summer season.

My spot is not to rot or freeze.
I've sought and fought for guarantees

and bought a lot of BVD's.

How Times Change

In Roman times, I wrote my rhymes
Amo, Amas, Amat.

In later years, I hid my tears
Amole, Amouse, Arat.


If at first you don't succeed,
if your pay is chicken feed,
the hounds of doubt have got you treed,
no satisfaction guaranteed,

then stop and turn your life around.
Direct your steps to hallowed ground.
You must obey a different creed
that helps fulfill the gaping need.

What once was lost will now be found,
life's pretender, finally crowned.

I'm As Old

I'm as old as Nova Scotia,
twice as nice as Ile de France,
slick and slim as body lotion,
kiss me or I'll wet my pants.

I'm as dark as Hell's back alley,
painful as an open sore,
"Atlas Shrugged" says Rand-McNally,
heading for the bathroom door.

I'm as green as oleander,
ripe as tripe and soft as sole,
forced to stay, I want to wander,
kiss me Darlin', make me whole.


Sunny skies and tse-tse flies and jumbo shrimps,
gumbo pies and goodyear blimps,

I caught a glimpse of her bedroom eyes,
those limpid pools, the simpering fools

who have no rules but realize, to their surprise,
the whimpering cries, the whispering sighs,

the lows and the highs which oft arise
as telling lies she preens and primps,

careens and limps, and means to scrimp,
then dies and ends this exercise.


Magnficent mantras by women were hummed as
significant sonnets on sitars were strummed.

The heavens were heaving as Johnny was leaving
to lay about London undoing his robe.

While the night sounds were screaming
the cartels were scheming, obviously meaning

to lighten the load.


Abraham and Captain Kidd
tried to do what Katy did.

Isaac and Christian Dior
did what Katy did some more.

Jacob and some other men
did what Katy did again.

When the twelve tribes held their ground,
Katy didn't stick around

to find out if the Bible knew
what Katy did or didn't do.


You ain't seen nothin' yet
I'll make my debut at the Met

Win the lottery on a dollar bet
Single-handedly repay the national debt

Learn to pilot my own Lear jet
Write the Alexandria Quintet

Teach Fred Astaire to pirouette
And Romeo can just forget

'bout kissin' that cute little Juliet
No! No! Nanette! my pet

What I said was not a threat
Tonight let's learn to surf the Net

While the sun is setting
We'll be tete-a-tete-ing

But first, can I bum a cigarette?

 Life in the Underworld

Orpheus, amorpheus he
Eurydice, you're rid of me

Persephone's per se a phony
Demeter's demeanor growing stony

Hades hides his eyes with shades
Hell, they all wear rollerblades.

The Lily-pad Lament

The frog-prince cried in silence
in his bedroom down the hall,
his usual grandiloquence
submerged in alcohol.

He reeked of gin and tonics
and his sob became a bawl.
Overcome by histrionics
he hunkered in his shawl.

He choked upon his sorrow
and his voice assumed a pall:
"I'll croak before tomorrow ...
she should have loved me warts and all."

The Limit

Every man must set a limit,
mark a boundary,
make his stand,
securely lock himself within it,

guard it surely,
fraught with worry,
constant fury,
judge and jury,

with right and might
and sleight of hand.


I was born at an early age, reared in arrears,
blessed by the holy ghost, credit at Sears,
wallowing westwardly, steering unsteady,
awkwardly searching out pseudo-spaghetti.

Meaning is sanctified, taking the measure,
reaching for reverie, lusting for leisure.
I gorge upon goldenrod, pausing politely,
seemingly satisfied, slaloming slightly.

Purpose is ill-defined, horizon gets hazy.
Reason is redesigned. I've gotten lazy.

Mr. Ed Regrets

A horse is a horse unless of course
a horse is a goat which is of note

a goat is a sheep to count to sleep
a sheep is a cow I'm wondering how

a cow is an ass how gross how crass
an ass is a dog who is chasing a hog

a hog is a cat and that's that.

No Bull

Walking on the beach in Hull,
life's decisions there to mull,
watching a single, circling gull,
catching a momentary lull.

My mind once sharp is growing dull.
My cup is now no longer full.
Please help these fields of doubt to cull,
uncertainty at last annul.


Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
The road to heaven is lined with lust
The raven pondered Athena's bust
While the prodigal squandered his trust

Dorothy rode on a wild wind's gust
The tin man's tears turned into rust
Cowardly lion fumed and fussed
And scarecrow did what a scarecrow must

Oliver begged for a single crust
Jack Horner sat in the corner and cussed
This story has no coherent thrust
But the rhymes are consistent - just

Ode to Kukla

On the way to catch the trolley
I met Kukla, Fran and Ollie.

Ollie's cute and so is Fran
but I think I'll join the Kukla Klan.

Old Poets

Old poets never die
their meters just run out.

Once a Day

Once a day
I have my say
I think nobody listens

Once a week
I rise to speak
And donít care who is missing

Once a month
I speak in tongues
No one solves my riddle

Once a year 
I persevere
Until one man is able

Then I arise to theorize
Try to solve my quandary

Sit down to win the booby prize
And sort my dirty laundry


Sensible shoes and sensitive news,
sentient views and seminal blues,
meaningful clues and meaningless dues,
hardly excuse all the oceans of booze.

Pie a la Mode

A bevy of brazenly big-busted beauties 
bombarded Boston with frosting 

from frozen fig newtons, 
the cute ones, the fruit ones, 

some fanciful nude ones 
were naughty and haughty 
and jaunty and rude ones. 

I likened their launchings 
to raunchy staunch stonings, 

their moanings and groanings 
condoning no phonies 

with symphonies scoring
and sympathies soaring 
above the euphonious, erroneous zones.

Erogenous hottentots homogenized Hollywood, 
hating the heartbreak that hastened them home.  
Dangerous dancers donated dozens 
of curious cousins, 

despairing uncaring diverse drivers, 
divers in foam that frothed and flowed pie a la mode 
and dove from the dome then drove home quite alone.


Polly put the kettle on.
Suki take it off again.
Golly how I rattle on.

Who is left to tattle on?
No, who is right, so let's have tea
Polly, Suki, you and me.


A man of New Guinea
was tall, dark and skinny.

A man of Tahiti
was found to be needy.

A man of the South Seas
did just as he damned please.

A man of New Zealand
had lost all his feelin'.

A man of New Britain
was thinking of quittin'.

And I in my glory
just finished the story.

Ringling Blues

Get in my car and drive my blues
clear out of town and sing the moon

my song of woe.  My feet are flat.
My shoes are long, as is my tune.

My song's flat too.  I'm just a clown
who wears clown shoes and smiles a frown.

Robinson Crusoe's Week

Any old Wednesday, I think about foreplay,
inspiring me all day to sit in the sun

where imagining Thursday, a victim of foul play,
is my man Friday who thinks he's the one.

But I know him better, he answers my letter,
and Saturday's hero is still on the run.

Sunday is one day that comes before Monday
and Tuesday's a blue day, a new day undone.

Roman  Holiday

When in Rome
I spoke Italian,
climbed the dome
and rode a stallion,
dug the loam
and ate a scallion.

Travelling does become me so
I turned into a Romeo.
I loved the girls both far and near
and never stopped to shed a tear
until the year I fled in fear
making my way homeo.


Practically nothing can give satisfaction,
and that is my message.

What is your reaction?


Scheherazade was playing God,
Schliemann excavating Troy.
Schopenhauer's view was dour.
Schweitzer's always brought me joy.

Gertrude Stein was but a rose.
Toulouse-Lautrec was short and sweet.
John Brown's body decomposed.
Longfellow had those metric feet.


Monday minds his P's and Q's
Tuesday talks in riddles

Wednesday winks at daffodils
Thursday sits and twiddles

Friday frolics in the sun
Saturday is lazy

Sunday falls asleep in church
The whole damn week is crazy

Shoe Suede Blues

Man of action, man of money,
satisfaction, can of honey,
I'm in traction, ain't it funny.

Let me lie here in the dirt.
I'm just laughing.  I'm not hurt.
I'll now reveal the thoughts I feel.

I'll talk - but wait,
I hesitate.

My minds confused.  I sing the blues.
I've lost my shoes.
My nose is runny.

Sigmund Freud Meets Hopalong Cassidy

Sigmund Freud met William Boyd 
and took him for a drink.

No surprise, Freud analyzed 
and Hoppy's spurs went "clink".

Small Pleasures

Higgledy piggledy Gigglely Gidget
There once was a frustrated woman named Bridget
Who made love on a wharf
Seven times with a dwarf
Then encored seven times with a midget


Sonny left me in the morning,
headed out to who knows where.

Is she coming back tomorrow,
love and hope and dreams to borrow,

will she bring me pain and sorrow
and did I ever really care?

St. Ives

As I was going to St. Ives
I met a gal with seven lives.

Every life had seven years.
Every year had seven tears.

Every tear had seven drops.
Aren't you glad this story stops.

St. Moritz

On the way to St. Moritz
I met a man who had no wits.

On the way to Santa Claire
I met a man with wits to spare.

Coming back from Santa Cruz
with not a farthing left to lose

I chanced to stop at St. Tropez
and saw these two men hard at play.


Sensitive issues spew forth from the fissures,
onionskin tissues, emission admixtures,

fusion, confusion, and legions of lesions,
leisurely lying, applying the lessons

of highly-mixed blessings, belying the message,
decry the messiah, come nigh me Delilah,

I'm high as the Rockies, the taxicab jockeys,
erotic page turners, exotic bun burners,

I'm stoned on the runway and ready to fly.

Strange Things

Some strange things are done for love
Some stranger things for money
But the strangest thing I've ever done
Is sitting naked in the noonday sun
With a mad dog and an Englishman
And a slender green-eyed honey

Now the mad dog went berserk and howled
The Englishman caught his fancy
Soon they went for tea and a scone
Leaving me and the green-eyed babe alone
She said "My friends all call me Joan
But you can call me Nancy"

Sunk in a Funk

Here I hunker in my bunker
my clunker, a piece of junk outside,

donut dunker, stink, stank, stunker,
drunker than a skunk, I'm fried.


I bought this tee-shirt yesterday
Cause I kind of liked the rhyme
On the front "So many women"
On the back "So little time"

On the front "I'm so outspoken"
On the back "I'm just a mime"
On the front "I love Rosemary"
On the back "I just have thyme"

On the front "From the ridiculous"
On the back "To the sublime"
On the front "I love spaghetti"
On the back "I'm pasta my prime"

On the front it says "Ghostbuster"
The back is green with slime
On the front there is a paradox
On the back a paradigm

On the front "No sea's too wide to swim"
On the back "No hill's too steep to climb"
On the front "Good poetry's an art"
On the back "Bad poetry's a crime"

The Camel

A drama with a dromedary,
I bought a camel at the Camelot.

It was more than I could carry
and, oh, that desert sand is hot.

The Edge

Sally lives at the edge of town
Billy lives at the edge of brown
Mary lives on the edge of down
I just live at the edge

Sally knows how to stop on a dime
Billy knows how to keep good time
Mary knows how to crawl in the slime
All I know is the edge

Sally stands in the sun with a smile
Billy stands with a certain style
Mary stands on her hands all the while
I'm just standing on the edge

The Golden Rule

When good just doesn't get it done
and better clearly doesn't make it

then do the best that you can do
or fake it.

The Happy Meal

I went down to McDonald's
to get myself a happy meal.
I supersized my drink and fries
when suddenly I realized
the secret of the universe
was lying there before my eyes.

All I ever have to do
is supersize my love for you,
supersize the way I feel,
supersize my sex appeal.
What's fake we often take as real.
We make so much of such a deal.

So supersize and supervise,
be super wise, tell super lies,
bake super pies, wear super ties
then life becomes a super steal.

The Hubble

In telescopes I like the Hubble.
I sneaked a peek and got in trouble.
Now I'm running on the double.

My rhymes are cunning, often subtle.
NASA kicked me off the shuttle.
That's why I lie here in the rubble.

Why'd they have to burst my bubble?

The Killing Fields

Matricide you kill your mother.
Fratricide you kill your brother.

Patricide you kill your father.
Suicide you needn't bother.

Regicide you kill your king.
Pesticide can save a sting.

Spermicide you kill a sperm.
Wormicide you kill a worm.
Germicide you kill a germ.

Homocidal tendency,
I kill them all from A to Z.

The Price of Royalty

The Prince of Wales
puts on his tails
and hastens toward the door.

A cab he hails,
his fate bewails,
the Princess always wanted more.

And when he fails
to trim his sails
he's chastened to the core.

Other males
out hunting grails
convince the Prince
to climb the fence,
his confidence restore.

The Status Quo Isn't What It Used To Be

Meet me in the alley, Sally
Meet me after the show, Bo
Meet me at the rally, Ali
Remember to go with the flow, Joe 

Kubla Khan and Andy Capp
Went down to the corner bar
Kubla Khan's a truthful chap
And Andy Capp's a liar

Betelgeuse may be a star
And not what insect's spit
A farthing may not go too far
And physically I'm phit

A rascal and a pretty girl
Went down to the sea at Surrey
The rascal wanted to dive in the surf
The girl was in no hurry

The Story of my Life

I've never seen a purple pig
Nor heard his oinky mutter

But I've read lots of purple prose
While wallowing in the gutter

The Truth

The truth is what will set me free
but that implies that all my lies
will finally imprison me.

The chain of lies will seal my fate,
each link, in sync,
my little truths invalidate.

The Used-Life Lot

Let's go down to the used-life lot
to look at pre-owned lives.
They come in automatics
or manual with overdrives.

The faith is fading with the paint
awaiting fate with no complaint.
Kick a tire and check for dents,
signs of former occupants.

Fluids low and high in miles,
sign of sorrows, trace of smiles,
brakes are fading, grinding gears
shifting slowly through the years.

Let's take a test drive, try the wheel,
haggle some then make a deal.
Used-life salesman, what a jerk!
This life needs some body work.

Now I've made the trade with fate,
agreed upon the purchase price.
Low down payment, finance rate,
this new life is twice as nice.

As my new-found life and I
pull out into the passing lane,
suddenly, I donít know why,
the tires begin to hydroplane.
Exhilaration turns to fear.
I sense a sudden, fatal flaw,
and as I hit the final gear
I hope that there's a lemon law. 

The Weekly

Hometown heroes, weekly papers,
rags that sell at local stores,
county news, opinion shapers,

who's getting in each other's drawers,
births and deaths and crimes and capers,
truths and lies both mine and yours.

Things You Lose

What! Lost your mittens, you naughty kittens
Then you shall have no pie.

Lost your way, you lame-brained spay
Then you'll just sit and cry.

Lost your ticket, you dense-witted thicket
Then you shall have to walk.

Lost your mind, you cow's behind
Then you shall mewl and squawk.


All that glitters is not gold
Quitters never win the race
Heavy hitters often miss
Litterbugs can trash the place

Baby sitters watch TV
Counterfeiters fake a buck
Every critter has his day
Embittered man is out of luck

Acquitters let OJ go free
Admitters often go to jail
Remitters have enclosed a check
Crime committers post their bail

Atom splitters make mushroom clouds
Banana fritters away the time
Pitter patter baby feet
Tobacco spitters end this rhyme

Top Cat

At the top of the world,
at the top of my game,
a "top o' the morning" to you, Sir.

As the flag is unfurled,
as you call out my name,
it's late and I haven't a clue, Sir.

Tort and Retort

For conduct unbecoming,
I think I soon be going.

But as I leave I start to wonder
what's the influence I'm under,

for I may stand before the bar
and twinkle like a little star.

A common trait that problem drinkers
share with ponderers and thinkers,

is the need to find solutions,
spiritual absolutions.

And if it may so please the court,
let me begin my last resort.

I shall compose a triolet
(or is it called a triolay)

I'm not a shrinking violet
I shall compose a triolet

but to which tongue do I owe debt
Anglicized or en francais

I shall compose a triolet
(or is it called a triolay)

VCR's and televisions,
get 'em at the discount store.
Try to choose and make decisions,
i.e. caveat emptor.

Zenith. Mitsubishi, Sony,
Panasonic, RCA,
I can never telephoney.
What's the difference  -
I can't say.


Melancholy Stan and Ollie,
Polly would you pour the tea?

Buddy Holly caught the trolley.
He'll be home by half past three.

But, by golly, where is Dolly?
Is she out in Tennessee?

Oh the folly, she's with Wally.
She ain't here with jolly me.


Fits and starts and auto parts
and pretty maids all in a row,
king of swing and queen of hearts,
yesterday's child is yet to grow,

tomorrow's man emerging slow,
sit you down and take a blow
and horses go before the carts.
In time the tides will ebb and flow

and I am looking high and low,
leaves to rake and lawns to mow.
Divorces are the source of smarts,
philosophies like Jean Paul Sartre's,

rhapsodies the mood imparts,
running nude he flits and darts
and finally stops the show. 

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