There’s No Accounting for Taste
Janet the gannet has circled the planet
In search of her favourite dish
She’s eaten the meat ’n’ the fowl ’n’ the sweet ’n’
She’s finally chosen the ratatouille
There’s Fashion – and Then There’s Clothes
Nouveau Quasimodo fashions
There’s a name that rings a bell
Special pockets on the shoulder blades
For sachets filled with gel
A Case of Sibling Rivalry
In ancient Pompeii a shepherding brat
Would cry, “Wolf!” while his sister looked after the cat
She’d stroke it and groom it and giggle with glee
And sometimes, for fun, she’d run out shouting, “Flea!”
He Has Peas Of Mind
Though most veggies are atheists
There’s one that truth perceives
The minister says, “Lettuce pray”
’Cos lettuce, he be leaves
And I Thought He Was Loony…
I thought I sought a puddy tat
Until I owned Sylvester
Who stalked my c’nary day and night
Desiring to ingest ’er
Damn!
The beaver had his tail cut off
You might say he was fated
Instead of being normal length
He’s been abbeaverated