Halloween is nearly here.
I’ve got my costume planned.
It’s sure to be the most horrific
outfit in the land.
If you should see me coming
you may scream and hide your head.
My get-up will, I guarantee,
fill every heart with dread.
My costume may cause nightmares.
Yes, my mask may stop your heart.
You might just shriek and wet yourself,
then squeamishly depart.
And yet, I won’t be dressing as
you might expect me to.
I will not be a vampire
or ghost that hollers “boo!”
I won’t look like a werewolf
or a goblin or a ghoul,
or even like a slimy blob
of deadly, dripping drool.
I will not be a zombie
or some other horrid creature.
No, this year I’ll be much, much worse…
I’m dressing as a teacher.
My pig won’t let me watch TV.
It’s totally unfair.
He watches anything he wants
but doesn’t ever share.
I never get to watch cartoons
or anything like that.
He’s busy watching farming shows.
I should have got a cat.
I should have got a goldfish
or a guinea pig or goat.
Instead, I’ve got this pig
who’s always hogging the remote.
Today’s my favorite holiday,
a day to sing and dance and play,
a day to laugh and jump and run,
a day for having loads of fun.
Today’s the day I celebrate.
I’m overjoyed. I’m feeling great!
I’ll throw a party, have a ball,
invite a friend, invite them all!
We’ll play a game. We’ll play a sport.
We’ll frolic, rollick, romp, cavort.
We’ll celebrate all over town.
We’ll party till the sun goes down.
Another favorite holiday
just happened only yesterday.
And, yes, tomorrow, strange but true,
will surely be my favorite too.
You want to know how there could be
so many holidays for me?
It’s simple. See, to qualify
a day just has to end in “Y.”
My dog is running faster
than he’s ever run before
in a supersonic circle
in the middle of the floor.
He started somewhat slowly
but he quickly gathered steam,
and continued gaining speed
until his spinning was extreme.
He’s turned into a whirlwind,
like a funnel cloud of fog,
so it’s hard to even focus on
my whirling dervish dog.
He’s like a small tornado
or a canine hurricane.
Why it doesn’t make him dizzy
I’m unable to explain.
I only know he has this
most unusual of traits,
and he loves to chase his tail around
while wearing roller skates.
Gordon’s garden’s started growing
unexpected things,
and though it sounds unusual
they all have beaks and wings.
His garden grew a hummingbird,
a heron, and a hawk,
a pelican, a parakeet,
a pigeon, and an auk.
It grew a cuckoo and a crow,
an ostrich and an owl,
an eagle and an egret
and assorted other fowl.
A mockingbird, an oriole,
a chicken and a duck.
It’s fun to watch his garden grow,
and chirp, and flap, and cluck.
It turns out growing gardens
full of birds is not so hard,
and Gordon got his crop
by planting birdseed in the yard.
I have an amoeba I keep as a pet.
Today is his birthday. I didn’t forget.
I baked him a cake so incredibly small,
a microscope’s needed to see it at all.
This minuscule morsel’s so meager and scant,
it wouldn’t suffice as a snack for an ant.
There isn’t a flea this confection would feed;
this particle pastry is paltry indeed.
It’s infinitesimal; barely a speck.
I managed to frost it with less than a fleck.
I topped it with candles of miniature size,
to give my amoeba his birthday surprise.
At last it was ready. The cake was all set,
and just the right size for my single-celled pet.
The candles were lit. It was perfectly frosted.
I set the cake down and I instantly lost it.
When I powered my computer on today
it wouldn’t boot,
so I tapped it just a little
but it still would not compute.
So I thumped a little harder
hoping that would make it go.
When it didn’t help, I hit it with
an even bigger blow.
Then I punched it half a dozen times
which wasn’t very smart,
for my knuckles hurt like heck
but my computer didn’t start.
So I whacked it with a hammer
and I knocked it over flat,
and I probably should not have clubbed it
with my baseball bat.
But at least I needn’t fret about
it booting anymore,
since I booted my computer
down the stairs and out the door.
(to the tune of “The Marine’s Hymn” or “From the Halls of Montezuma”)
From the ants in our petunia bed
to the earthworms in our lawn;
they’ve been practicing karate drills
every morning right at dawn.
All the beetles and the katydids
and the caterpillars, too,
have been learning judo, tae kwon do,
sumo wrestling, and kung fu.
They’ve been mastering the flying kick.
They’ve been breaking bricks and boards.
And I think they may have even learned
how to fight with ninja swords.
They’ve been marching all around the yard
to the sound of beating drums.
I would say they’re nearly ready for
when the pest control guy comes.
(to the tune of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” or “Glory, Glory Hallelujah”)
I dreamed that there were twenty monkeys bouncing on my bed.
They were jumping up and down and nearly landing on my head.
Then they started having pillow fights and throwing stuff instead.
I loved my dream that day!
CHORUS
Stuff went flying through the air then.
First a picture then a chair, then
all my socks and underwear then.
I loved my dream that day!
They ran around my bedroom throwing basketballs and bats.
They had toppled all my trophies. They were tossing all my hats.
It was obvious those monkeys were a bunch of little brats.
I’m not sure what to say!
CHORUS
Books went flying out the door, and
clothes were pulled from every drawer, and
junk had covered up the floor, and
I wished they’d go away!
I woke to find my bedroom a complete and total mess.
It was utterly in shambles and a state of some distress.
Then I knew my dream was just a dream for, sadly, I confess,
it always looks this way!
(to the tune of “On Top of Old Smokey”)
On top of Mount Everest,
all covered with snow,
a skiing gorilla
yelled, “Look out below!”
He skied down the mountain
at breathtaking speed
as everyone cheered at
his daredevil deed.
Hi skied down a glacier
He flew off a jump
but bounced off a boulder
and tripped on a bump.
He staggered and stumbled.
He let out a yell.
He toppled and tumbled
and flipped as he fell.
So soon that gorilla
was covered with snow.
A big hairy snowball
that started to grow.
He rolled down the mountain.
He bounced and he flew,
then bumped into base camp;
his journey was through.
With skis sticking outward
like popsicle sticks,
the people who saw him
applauded his tricks.
And when they unfroze him
and said what he’d done,
he got an idea and
a lightbulb went on.
So now that gorilla
is a millionaire
for he had invented
the popsicle there.
And now when he’s skiing
you won’t see him crash.
Instead of Mount Everest,
he skis mountains of cash.
Halloween is Nearly Here
My Pig Won’t Let Me Watch TV
Today’s My Favorite Holiday
My Dog is Running Faster
Gordon’s Garden
I Have an Amoeba
Computer Boot
From the Ants in Our Petnuia Bed
Monkey Dream
On Top of Mount Everest