Archive for August, 2008

John is partial to his sport

Sunday, August 31st, 2008

John is partial to his sport
He can play most any sort,
Give him a bat and give him a ball
He’ll have a go at them all.

Johnny’s keen on football,
The best centre forward yet,
He runs ahead and scores the goals
Without his breaking sweat.

At playing cricket he excels
And bowls a steady line,
Then when he’s batting whacks the ball
For sixes every time.

Golfing’s great when John’s around
He hits it down the middle,
He always gets a hole in one
With hardly any trouble.

Swimming up and down he does
Before he goes to school,
He ploughs the lanes with a fast front crawl
In the town swimming pool.

At badminton his record is
Eighty three with Tom,
And if he keeps on practising
It will be 100 before long.

He paddles here he paddles there
When kayaking with his brothers,
Eskimo rolls and a big seal launch
Whilst splashing one another.

Basketball? – he’s not very tall
So he hasn’t played this yet,
But when he grows a foot or two
He’ll find that high up net.

At rugby he’s a fast scrum half
And scores before you know it,
He is the best but it must be said
That tennis is his favourite.

He’s ace at serving, volleys hard
His back hand is great to see,
But his forehand topspin beats the lot
If you were asking me.

When it’s raining hard outside
At snooker he’s quite able,
Then he likes to play ping pong
Upon the kitchen table.

John is partial to his sport
He can play most any sort,
Give him a bat and give him a ball
He’ll have a go at them all.


Friday, August 29th, 2008

Lilly’s such a silly billy
Likes to dance and play the fool
People think she’s a bit crazy
But not me I think she’s cool.

This is only a short poem
Because Lilly’s not so tall
But it’s only fair to mention
She’s only six, that’s why she’s small.

Her mummy tells me she is mad
I think that’s a great thing to be
If she wasn’t I’d be sad
She really means a lot to me.

Cos mad mad mad mad mad mad mad
Makes her popular at school
People think she’s a bit crazy
But not me I think she’s cool.

Cheese – a poem for Stella

Friday, August 29th, 2008

There are lots of different kinds of cheeses
Some with holes and some, which when you smell ‘em
blows your socks off to your kneeses
filling your head with lots of sneezes.

Not all cheese is holy,
except when eaten by a vicar
or an Archbishop of Canterbury.

Not all cheese is smelly
Unless left in the fridge too long
In which case it’ll start to pong.

Some cheese is blue, its true
The choice is yours
It’s down to you.

If you prefer orange or red or green
This type of cheese is often seen
Upon the supermarket shelf
And if eaten in moderation
Is said to be quite good for your elf.

Spreadable, dunkable, toastable cheese
Is sometimes all it takes to please
A yatchsman sailing on high seas.

But best of all is good old cheddar
A taste I learnt of from another
Who said it originates from a cow
I found it difficult to believe how,
When it clearly comes in a plastic cover
Bought in Tesco by my mother.

Bears don’t sit on chairs – a poem for Megsy on her birthday

Thursday, August 28th, 2008

Bears don’t sit on chairs,
You see their bottoms are too hairy
And they’re really very heavy
So they don’t find perching easy.
When they come in from the woods
With their paws all wet with honey –
A chair can get quite sticky
And their mothers do get fussy
Because it makes the cushions smelly.
So when they watch the telly
They’re made to sit upon the floor
On a rug
Which is difficult to break
Unlike the chair
And they’re not allowed a drink
Because a spill could cause a stink
Which again their mums don’t like – I think..
Bears don’t sit on chairs.