You Can Argue with a Tennis Ball
You can argue with a tennis ball
or argue with your hat.
You can argue with bananas
or a broken baseball bat.
You can argue with your locker.
You can argue with your shoe.
You can argue all day long
until your face is turning blue.
You can argue with a pickle.
You can argue with a bee.
It’s a fact that you can argue
with most anything you see.
You can argue with the football field
or argue with the bleachers.
But I’ve found it isn’t very smart
to argue with the teachers.
Hippo SandwichIf you’re feeling rather hungry
and you really need to eat,
you should try a hippo sandwich;
it’s a satisfying treat.
To prepare a hippo sandwich
with a minimum of fuss
get a loaf of bread, a pickle
and a hippopotamus.
If you do not like the flavor,
don’t be worried, don’t be flustered,
just add hippopotamayonnaise
and hippopotamustard.
When Otto Got a Hot DogWhen Otto got a hot dog
he stared at it a while,
then dripped a drop of mustard on
and smiled a little smile.
He covered it with relish
which really made him grin,
then spread it thick with mayonnaise
and shoveled onions in.
He splashed it with some ketchup,
as much as he could squeeze,
and tossed on chopped tomatoes
and some shredded cheddar cheese.
He smothered it with sauerkraut,
and bacon bits and beans,
He even added twenty two
Norwegian canned sardines.
He piled it high with pickles
and peppers by the pound.
He topped it off with chili
then he looked at it and frowned.
He shed a single tiny tear
and gave a little pout,
for Otto hated mustard
so he had to throw it out.
Mashed Potatoes on the CeilingMashed potatoes on the ceiling.
Green beans on the floor.
Stewed tomatoes in the corner.
Squash upon the door.
Pickled peppers in my pocket.
Spinach up my sleeves.
Mushrooms in my underpants with
leeks and lettuce leaves.
Okra, onions, artichokes,
asparagus and beets;
buried neatly underneath the
cushions of our seats.
All the rest I’ve hidden in my socks
and down my shirt.
I’m done with all my vegetables.
I’m ready for dessert!
Our Mother’s at a MeetingOur mother’s at a meeting
for some big, important deal,
and couldn’t be at home tonight
to cook the evening meal.
She left some short directions
for my sister just to follow.
Instead my sister cooked up things
impossible to swallow.
Like Brussels sprouts in vinegar
and jellybeans in mustard,
an onion-pickle pudding
and a lemon-radish custard.
She burned a stick of butter
’til the house was filled with smoke,
then fried a pound of pepper
with a half an artichoke.
She put a whole banana
in the blender with a steak,
then mixed it up with tunafish
and baked it in a cake.
She stirred some chocolate ice cream
with garbanzo beans and bacon.
A single bite was all it took
to leave me feeling shaken.
We should have ordered pizza
but we didn’t know, alas,
my sister is the only kid
who flunked her cooking class.
The Addlepated GlundersneddIndustrious and underfed,
the addlepated Glundersnedd
resides inside, beneath your bed
and waits for dusky dark to spread.
He waits until your lights are out
to leave his roost and snoop about,
then snuffles with his snarkly snout
in search of salty sauerkraut.
For pickled cabbage, steamed or stewed,
or baked or boiled or barbecued
is pretty much his favorite food
and puts him in a merry mood.
But if he snuffles all around
and makes that snarkly snorting sound
within the drawers and on the ground,
and sauerkraut cannot be found
The addlepated Glundersnedd
industrious and underfed
harumph-a-lumps right back to bed
to snack on girls and boys instead.
Of all the things that he’ll ingest
from north or south or east or west
as you already may have guessed
he fancies children second best.
So if you plan to keep your head
then please remember what I said:
to feed the dreaded Glundersnedd
keep sauerkraut beside your bed!
The Pretzel, the Pig, and the Baby BaboonThe pretzel, the pig and the baby baboon
went sailing away in a cardboard balloon.
They floated from Tuesday till sometime in June
on the vapors of valentine mints.
The baby baboon and the pretzel and pig
were happy at home in their bell-bottomed rig.
The flung off their caps as they jiggled a jig
over mountains of satin and chintz.
The pretzel played banjo and wiggled about.
The baby baboon gave a whoop and a shout.
The pig ate a pickle and polished his snout.
as they flew through a candy cane sky.
They soared on the breeze over cinnamon seas
and counted the stars in the sassafras trees,
then dined on spaghetti and strawberry teas
with bananas and Boston cream pie.
So give me your hand and we’ll stroll down the strand.
We’ll splash in the surf and collapse on the sand,
to wait near the spot where they’re planning to land
for I hear that they’re coming home soon.
We’ll watch for the pig and the pretzel as well,
commanding their craft over billow and swell,
to guide them home safely by ringing a bell
by the light of the indigo moon.
Sea Monster’s ComplaintMy breakfast never varies;
it’s the same thing every day.
And lunch and dinner likewise
make me yawn and turn away.
I’m craving something different.
I’m in need of something new.
Some pickles, some lasagna,
or a chocolate cake or two.
I’d like a dozen pizzas
and some carry-out Chinese,
a turkey, ham and pot roast
with potatoes, pies and peas.
I want a bag of burgers,
and a barrel full of rice.
I’ll wash it down with twenty quarts
of soda pop on ice.
My taste buds need variety
to pass between my lips.
No more of just the same old thing!
I’m sick of fish and ships.
I’m Absolutely Full Tonight
I’m absolutely full tonight.
I couldn’t eat another bite.
I couldn’t eat a half a bean,
or even taste a tangerine.
I couldn’t lick a lettuce leaf
or bite the slightest bit of beef.
I couldn’t polish off a pea
or sip a single drop of tea
or nibble on a nanogram
of pickled ham or candied yam
or lamb or clam or jam or Spam.
Yes, that’s how full I truly am.
To even think of eating more
would leave me lying on the floor
and surely make my stomach hurt
unless, of course, you’ve got dessert.
The Contents of My Desk
A nail.
A nickel.
A snail.
A pickle.
A twisted-up
slinky.
A ring for
my pinky.
A blackened
banana.
A love note
from Hannah.
My doodles
of rockets.
The lint from
my pockets.
A fork-like
utensil.
But sorry…
no pencil.