I was sitting by my window
as I always do each morning
when a strange thing started happening
without the slightest warning.
It began by raining buckets,
several dustpans and a broom,
and a box of sponges landed
near the window with a boom.
Several mops appeared from nowhere
And with playfulness and skill
They paraded in formation
and they danced upon the sill.
Then a dozen cans of cleanser
and a hundred bars of soap,
spun in circles ’round my bedroom
like a spiral gyroscope.
They did pirouettes and pivots.
They performed a song-and-dance.
Then they finished with a combination
wiggle, waltz and prance.
Then they just as quickly vanished,
turning cartwheels ‘cross the floor,
they went bounding out the window
and they tumbled out the door.
I have no idea what happened,
so I guess I’ll just assume
this is someone’s way of telling me
that I should clean my room.
Mirror, mirror, by the sink,
tell me what you truly think.
Am I fat or am I thin?
Will I lose or should I win?
Am I short? Perhaps too tall?
Are my ears a bit too small?
Is my nose exactly right?
Do I have an overbite?
Am I weak or super strong?
Is my hair too short or long?
Am I smart or rather dumb?
Can you say what I’ll become?
Am I nerdy? Am I cool?
Am I awful? Do I rule?
Am I great or do I stink?
Mirror, mirror by the sink.
The tiger phoned the zebra
and invited him to dine.
He said “If you could join me
that would simply be divine.”
The zebra said “I thank you,
but respectfully decline.
I heard you ate the antelope;
he was a friend of mine.”
On hearing this the tiger cried
“I must admit it’s true!
I also ate the buffalo,
the llama and the gnu.
And yes I ate the warthog,
the gazelle and kangaroo,
but I could never eat a creature
beautiful as you.
“You see I have a secret
I’m embarrassed to confide:
I look on you with envy
and a modicum of pride.
Of all the creatures ever known,”
the tiger gently sighed,
“It seems we are the only two
with such a stripy hide.
“Now seeing how we share this
strong resemblance of the skin,
I only can conclude that we are
just as close as kin.
This means you are my brother
and, though fearsome I have been,
I could not eat my brother,
that would surely be a sin.”
The zebra thought, and then replied
“I’m certain you are right.
The stripy coats we both possess
are such a handsome sight!
My brother, will you let me
reconsider if I might?
My calendar is empty so
please let us dine tonight.”
The tiger met the zebra in
his brand-new fancy car
and drove him to a restaurant
which wasn’t very far.
And when they both were seated
at a table near the bar,
the zebra asked “What’s on the grill?”
The tiger said “You are.”
“But please, you cannot dine on me!”
the outraged zebra cried.
“To cook me up and eat me
is a thing I can’t abide.
You asked me for your trust
and I unwarily complied.
You said you could not eat me
now you plan to have me fried?”
“And what about the envy
and the modicum of pride?
And what of us as brothers
since we share a stripy hide?”
“I’m sorry,” said the tiger
and he smiled as he replied,
“but I love the taste of zebra
so, in other words, I lied.”
Every springtime an earthworm named Binkley,
gets so blinkin’ wet he gets wrinkly.
The rain keeps on sprinkling and Binkley keeps drinking
until he’s all puffy and pinkly.
But it isn’t all bad being wrinkly,
as Binkley could tell you succinctly.
Just as you’re thinking, all Summer he’s shrinking;
by Autumn he’s dried up and crinkly!
Jack be nimble.
Jack be quick.
Jack jump over the candlestick.
Jack be nimbler.
Jack be quicker.
The seat of your pants
is starting to flicker.
My car is constructed of pickles.
It’s wonderfully crunchy and sweet.
If ever I’m hungry while driving
I pull off a pickle to eat.
The engine is made out of gherkins.
The dashboard’s an extra-large dill.
The windows and wipers are kosher
as well as the bumpers and grille.
The hood’s made of hamburger slices.
The gas tank is brimming with brine.
The doors are delectably salty.
The stickshift is simply divine.
There’s one little problem I’m having.
I’m sure you would know what I mean
if ever you saw this contraption;
my marvelous pickle machine.
I guess I’ve included my auto
in just a few too many meals
and now it won’t budge when I start it.
I shouldn’t have eaten the wheels.
My mouse is rather fond of cheese
from hereabouts or overseas
like cheddars, parmesans and bries
in brick or wheel or ball.
He’ll eat ricotta, feta too,
plus gorgonzola, gouda, blue,
in sandwiches or cheese fondue,
my mouse will eat them all.
He’ll have havarti for a snack,
a slice or two, and then a stack
of mozarella, Swiss and jack,
he thinks they’re oh so nice.
But though my mouse and I agree
we both enjoy a tasty brie,
I’ll miss my mouse because, you see,
my cat is fond of mice.
I have noodles in my nostrils.
I have noodles on my nose.
There are noodles on my cheeks and chin
and dripping down my clothes.
I’ve got more upon my forehead.
Some are sticking to my neck.
It’s completely disconcerting.
I’m a noodle-covered wreck.
I can see them on my kneecaps,
and I know they’re in my shoes.
(When I stand they’re somewhat squishy
and I feel them start to ooze.)
There are several in my pockets.
There’s a handful in my hair.
And I’m pretty sure that some are even
in my underwear.
So try not to do what I did.
I’m a total nincompoop,
and I fell asleep at lunch
while eating chicken noodle soup.
We’re skydiving elephants, bulging and bold.
We’re dazzling and daring; a sight to behold.
We leap from our airplane at dizzying heights,
to soar through the sky on spectacular flights.
Our airborne maneuvers are one-of-a-kind.
We spin in the air with our trunks intertwined.
We tuck and we tumble, we twist and we twirl.
We somersault freely, we wiggle and whirl.
We flip and we flutter while turning our tails,
unfurling our ears like magnificent sails.
We swivel and swim in a synchronized crawl
or swan-dive in spirals as earthward we fall.
The onlookers gawk in an awestricken trance
to witness our wonderful aerial dance.
They clap at our kicks and rejoice at our rolls,
and shriek as our landings leave walloping holes.
I Was Sitting by My Window
Mirror, Mirror
The Tiger and the Zebra
Binkley
Melody Ring
Jack Be Nimbler
My Car is Constructed of Pickles
My Mouse Is Rather Fond of Cheese
I Have Noodles in My Nostrils
We’re Skydiving Elephants