Badgers Smoke Cigarettes
I Knew a Snake
I Like Goats
I Knew an Ant
Rabbits and Ferrets
Cows and Badgers
Fortune Smiled on Frank
Dogs and Mutts
Famous Herds of Buffalo
Here's the Woodworm
There Lived a Snail
I've Never Met a Terrier
Have You Ever (Aardvark)
Have You Ever (Coypu)
Monkeys, Gibbons, Apes
A Long Ago and Far Away
I Met Monkeys
Alan Was An Animal
Badgers Smoke Cigarettes
Badgers smoke cigarettes
Badgers are fiends
Hooked on the tar
And the bad nicotine
Badgers give fags
To the kids in the woods
Badgers steal cars
And electrical goods
Robbing in masks
They know just what they're doing
Each Badger's bad
They like guns and tattooing.
My Cat Likes to Watch
My Cat likes to watch snuff movies
Not hard-hearted, she's just groovy
On an evening weekend jaunt
She likes to watch a sicko flaunt
It seems she'll buy them by the dozen
But won't watch with kin or cousin
All alone within her hide
She'll arouse her perv'ish side
The funny thing is in our papers
There are stories of some japesters
Who will force an animal
To be teased and tugged and pulled
The trouble is they've caught the dude
Who did it - he said something rude
But it all happened on my hols
When Cat watched 'Valley of the Dolls.'
But then the psycho struck again
And knifed and killed some gals and men
This time I was within my house
And Cat said, 'I was out to mouse.'
I panicked and then called the police
It seemed their suspect was released
He wasn't who they looked out for
'Twas someone with a feline claw
My Cat came home, her paws quite bloodied
I asked her, 'Why's your fur so ruddied?'
She said, 'I went out for a jog'
'And had to run - I saw a dog.'
With that she sneaked off to her room
But minutes later police assumed
Their stance of justice 'bout the place
And kitty unto fate was faced
They took her in and cuffed her paws
And charged her with the crimes she'd caused
I watched her from my window-sill
And cried for such a Cat so ill
For all this time I'd harboured she
Who'd left cadavers so bloody
A hobby it had seemed to her
A cat flap thing - the police concur
My animal - no noble savage
Simply liked to tear and ravage.
These days my pets are soft and gentle:
The gerbils say all cats are mental.
Chickens Have Feathers
Chickens have feathers and sharp pointy peckers
And giblets and gimlets and that
They don't wear pyjamas these farmyard alarmers,
You'll never see one in a hat.
They won't wear a coat like a cat or a stoat
Or trousers like lemmings or sheep
I try to attire them but often expire them
But I'll try again come next week.
I Pay A Visit To The Zoo
Each Monday, Wednesday, Fridays too
I pay a visit to the zoo
I take a mammal or a bird
And take it home without a word
Perhaps a monkey or some mice
And dress them up to make them nice.
I've put some slacks on kangaroos
And tanktops on a few gnu's
On marmosets a skirt is neat
Stilletto's go on lions feet.
A little make-up goes a mile
To bring out any lobster's smile.
I've tried hot pants upon a turkey
But they drop because they're jerky.
Cardigans for antelopes
While chimps swing by on denim ropes.
I've put a smile on every monkey
In Y-fronts budgies look quite funky.
"It's all a hoax", the papers say,
When the goats are dressed by C and A.
But you should see the grizzly bear
In Marks and Spencer underwear.
The keeper's pleased, he smiles and such
But wolf bikini's - just too much?
The crowds are really flocking to
This haute-couture, this catwalk zoo
I've done my best and got few thanks
Some say that leather's not for ants.
But I'll go on with more attire
For fashion beasts behind the wire.
Giant Ants Live In My Pants
Giant ants live in my pants
They bother me on weekdays
But late at night in weekend flight
They make me dance in sheik ways.
I've taught them all to synchronise
Their movements as I'm dancing
So as to make my bits look cool
And not like dodgy prancing.
But ants can only take so much
And don't live long within my crutch
So now I use a termite squad
And strut my funky dance-floor bod.
I Can See A Gerbil Dance
I can see a Gerbil dance
Simple rhythms drive his pants.
Ease the tempo, push the mood
And a gerbil will dance nude.
Many think their coat is real
But every hair is spun from steel.
Bullet proof and stabbing free
This is all for Gerbil glee.
With their food they may seem eager
But pseudo-cheeks disguise a beaver
All they eat seems gone in haste
And lost about their so-svelte waist.
Gerbils always watch their weight
And bitch about the things they hate
But just switch on the stereo
And see those pointy claw feet go.
If you think they're just for cages
All the week asleep for ages
Think just what the weekend means
For gerbil types are disco queens.
I Had A Rat
I had a rat his name was Lance
He was a fair clairvoyant
One day I threw him in the sea
To see if he was buoyant
He sank not so unlike a stone
But fate would have me save him
So then I put him in a cave
To dry: there was a cave in
As luck would have it he stayed well
Beneath a large'ish boulder
And though a fire nearby did rage
Only his whiskers smouldered
I kept him close, I kept him well
And Lance was never better
But then he told me that my fate
Was sealed - within a letter
He gave it to me later so
I read it: it was dodgy
His handwriting left much desired
The 'P's were rather splodgy.
But I deciphered all the text
And hit upon the message
It seemed that someone was to die
And I had earned the death-age.
I did not panic, weep or moan
Just passed my last respects:
It's good to have a seer rat
'Cos what could happen next?
His rodent mind had given all
My end at last I'd found
While he had all my worldly goods
I had six feet of ground.
The funny thing is though I'm dead
In general I was well
I guess the moral of this tale
Is don't let rats foretell.
Kissing chickens is a hazard
Unless you dress up like a buzzard.
Birds of prey just can't be stood
By poultry types by way of food.
If you wish to lick a turkey
Don't get jumpy, fraught or jerky.
Gobblers spot it at a mile
And run from balaclava'd smiles.
Dress up nice and firm and feathery
And if you're lucky be called Geoffrey.
This will ease their birdy giblets,
Hence no call for knives in soft bits.
These are rules for birdlike-nappings,
Ransom traps and drive-by-shootings.
And also don't forget the cops
Or else regrets will lie with slops.
Snogging chickens ain't for fools
It's serious and really cool.
It's not for Prince or Roger Daltrey
It's just for folk who like some poultry.
Simon The Python
Simon the python was a living hell,
His tights were large, his feet would smell.
His fearful scales would scare a kid
Until their pants were quite rancid.
Simon the python dined on protein
Often mixed with drooling goat's spleen.
All entwined in a plastic bowl
Which melted down to form a doll.
Simon had a friend called Dan
Whose hobbies beside Simon's ran.
Rubber women, plastic bowls
These were things that saved their souls.
Simon, Dan - their names were fables,
But Chinese chefs soon turned the tables.
They skinned young Simon, Daniel too
And cooked them on a barbecue.
Simon, naturally, was riled
But under 'SNAKE' his words were filed.
"I hope I went down very well,"
"Cos when I'm back your bowels will swell
So Simon's words come back to haunt.
To twitch the bowels; to colon taunt
Of every chef of kith or kin
Who so commits a python sin.
- Don't think you're safe if you drive a Honda
We'll just send out the Anaconda...
Camels have a something that
Most people have of two
Cos when they blink it makes you think
They're eyelids are like you
But hump-types have six eye-lids
That can cover up their pupils
Which stops the best psychologists
From checking out their scruples
For camels are the trader types
Of drugs and booze and ponies
But they're designed to not malign
Each dromedary phoney
But though they're good at hiding
Should they're I.D. be discovered
They'll tell you each and everything
Because they are well mothered
For as it's known in distant lands
Like Egypt where it's sunny
Although they'll stray to dirty deeds
They can't lie to their Mummy.
Lemming Pete did like a bomb
Though he'd no legs to run off on
For he had blasts within his ken
With petrol and some nitrogen.
Whene'er he saw a burning bush
He'd sling on juice to make it 'whoosh!'
And fan the flames to spread disaster
Though making sure he had a plaster
All his bod was covered in
A makeshift kind of medicine
That made sure all his soul was cool
And not too crispy like a fool.
Pete makes fires in places able
Like a fondue on a table
Barbeques are not forgotten
For his deeds are not all rotten.
Though he's not mad his moral is
All burning was as burning is.
He sniffs danger like a weasel;
Don't burn petrol just use diesel
I Knew A Snake
I knew a snake that liked to act
But he was not a Mamba
He was a reckless method type
Who'd drive through lights of amber
Though I say 'snake' it must be said
No snake as such was he
He was a slow-worm lizard dude
With gaps where limbs should be
His name was Slim, his looks were good
Like James Dean in a movie.
But evolution made it's mark
And ruled that legs weren't groovy
But talent will, as they say, out
And soon an agent saw him
No small part for this princely worm
As extra or a stand-in.
No, no - he had the leading role
As Rhett beside his Scarlet
The script said he would do away
With every kind of varlet
The day arrived, the cameras rolled
The lenses were all clean
But then a fatal flaw arose:
The Rhett slaps Scarlet scene.
As dashing Rhett old Slim was there
All geared up for his acting
But when it came to slapping face
He realized limbs were lacking
At first old Slim was put aside
And all the cast was changed
But luckily their hair fell out
For they had all caught mange
So back to Slim producers ran
And begged for him to come back
And so, lawd sakes, he did return -
The script was in his bum-bag.
For film directors, as they are,
All seek a new De Niro.
The public, wanting something more,
Have wizard lizard heroes.
I Like Goats
I like goats they can be pleasant
They're not as gaudy as a pheasant
Although it seems it comes to mind
Of such a billy goated find.
His name was Ron, his beard was big
Though critics said he was a pig
On stage and screen he was upsetting
Prone to awful bard blood letting
But as the actor he ploughed on
Though goat to ham had surely gone
The plaudits fell - he'd lost his grip
And talents rat had fled his ship
His ego and his manhood shattered
He took to booze (his billy battered)
The months to years soon came and went
And oh, sweet Ron, his time was spent
Until by chance a part arrived
To pluck him from obscure archive
The plot was fresh, the words were witty
As if by magic Ron sat pretty.
His dreams were filled with thoughts a-plenty
He changed his name to George DeVenty
Horns were shined his teeth were brushed
A dandy stood where once was gruff.
So now his dream of treading boards
Is quite fulfilled and loved by hoards
For once where stood a billy'd thing
Upon the podium he's King
Come Shakespeare, Checkov, Uncle Vanya
The critics say they'll never pan ya'
It seems that this deft bearded goat
Can reach the parts so oft remote
The moral of this story lies
Not in the playwright's lordly guise
But in a kid who reached his dotage
Then searched his heart to find his goatage.
I Knew An Ant
I knew an ant she was expelled
From insect kind of college
She suffered from a thyroid gland
That had prevented smallage
"An ant of height," the bigots said
But she had a grace and beauty
To eat with three forks at one sit
She felt was just her duty
At home we'd watch the talk show hosts
Consuming every channel
She'd use her torsos many limbs
To cut out too much flannel.
But problems rose to meet the few
Whose bitter words would ill
And in her neat suburban way
She'd tear their throats and kill.
An ant wife's ways are soon unfurled
Divorce was then an option
And so the legal types appealed
For half-ant kid adoption
We went about our separate ways
A man and ant no more
For herb' and omnivore.
Rabbits and Ferrets
Some stories come, some stories go
And country tales seem reaped and sown
But every word that's written here
Is true and cold, unlike bad beer.
The tale begins in darkest Kent
Beside a hedgerow day was spent.
Beneath the moonlight rabbits rose
Awakened from their days repose.
But empty fields aren't there to greet
The scrapings of their claw-strewn feet.
For in the night the ferrets come
To plot revenge on rabbit-dom.
For, truth be known, in years gone by
A ferret lived a rabbit lie.
Before mankind had caves with doors
The rabbits ruled with iron paws.
It seems that ferrets lived in strife
To serve a rabbit all it's life.
For rabbits had the pointy teeth
To make a ferret widow's grief.
Dominating bucks would rule
While gentle ferrets cleaned the pool.
Preparing salads, cooking meals;
While rabbits rested ferrets squealed.
Until the perfect time arrived
For which the ferrets had survived,
When ferret dentures came by post
Once fitted they devoured their host.
And so that's why a rabbit fears
The sweet revenge of all those years.
It sticks to after-dusk adventures
To stay away from ferret dentures.
Racoon tales are far and few
And often much between,
But once in every silvery moon
A splendid sight is seen.
It started many years ago
Way down in New Orleans,
T'was known to all as Blue Patch Central
Good for growing beans.
In a hut in thickets thick,
Close by the Mississippi
Nearby the river running quick
In winter it was nippy.
There lived a Racoon, fierce and true
For many he had slain
In battles, brews and cooking shows
And Quincy was his name.
An epic tale is to be told
Of Quincy's life and fables.
As soon as his small life picks up
He'll write as soon as able.
For racoons are a simple bunch
Bad press they may have found.
Though dressed in masks of blackened hues
Their lives are not profound.
For Quincy lives a quiet life;
Knifing he's not done.
Slitting gizzards, pinching throats
Just do not tempt his tongue.
Parting gimlets, hefting thighs
Hacking ribs and ankles
Brings no joy to racoon types
And soon with Quincy rankles.
But all these days of which I speak
Are weekdays, please remember,
Where as the weekends must be kept
For Quincy to dismember.
So don't believe a Quincey'd coon
They'll bite like hellish beasts.
Devour your kin without a thought
At fleshed-out weekend feasts.
Cows and Badgers
Cows and badgers rarely meet
For cows have sharp and pointy feet.
While badger's paws are soft and pliable
Heifer's hooves can be maniacal.
In the field a cow will graze
Beneath a farmer's watchful gaze
But when the yokel's back is turned
A cow makes sure a badger's burned.
Ask any soul of country stock
About the fires at twelve o'clock,
When cattle should be locked away
All sleeping warm amongst the hay.
And any farmer worth his salt
Will tell you tales of beef revolt.
Of badgers strung from branch and bough
And tortured by an evil cow.
But stop, you cry, we're on our knees.
What of the badger-borne disease?
Creating hordes of bovine lepers
And killing off the calves and heifers.
'Tis but a lie from udder-chaps
To shame a badger in its tracks.
For cows of every milky creed
Are tethered to a god called Greed.
The master plan is in their sights.
To sell their fields for building rights.
Accumulating vast returns
On stocks and bonds while badgers burn.
Now Zurich beckons beef accounts.
Cohabitation? cows renounce.
Evict the badgers from their setts
For "badger breeding just breeds debts."
Though badgers seem completely lost
To cloven beasts at any cost -
It seems their natural instincts won;
Their place remains beneath the sun.
For tunnels far below the grass
Have proved a pain to cow-type arse.
The bovine plans have now been scotched,
The best foundations badgers botched.
And finally a truce is called
While every cow is now black-balled.
So badgers live in harmony
Beneath a Versailles-beef treaty.
William Vole had a house with a hole
In a bank, in the rushes so dense
With a lock obscure but very secure
Cos Vole Man Willy was a fence
In his velvet paws he would take gewgaws
And a gem of purest silver
Then he'd launder up the lot from his private yacht
To lavish on his love Matilda.
For a vole has a hole but it ain't the sole
Requirement of most dwellers
Cos a man needs a plan for a girl who can
Please the needs of the strictest fellas.
So Milly was the filly for this love-sick Billy
Though the gal had a false agenda
For it seemed this queen was a love has-been
Who was secretly a vole avenger
In the world of crime in the riverbank slime
There's the used and the abuser
And Milly was a chick with a nervous tic
That endeared her to the gangster user.
But Willy was the last in this crime-love blast
And the tables soon turned upon him
Through a phone-tapped call he exposed his haul
To woman PC called Bronwyn.
Matilda was praised - though her love was razed
To the ground, but she ain't no house-frau
Cos Willy's in jail with a hopeless bail
And she's got the yacht and house now.
Fortune Smiled On
Frank the Hamster
Fortune smiled on Frank the hamster,
For he was born a demon prankster.
Both his friends and those he knew
Would keep a distance from his view.
Dreadful things wauld soon occur
To those who ventured near his fur.
For all about him traps were laid,
Which left a temper sorely frayed.
One summers day in Hamster Hole,
When Frank was hatching tricks quite bold,
He stumbled on a master plan
To mix big nails within All Bran.
His rodent chums soon gathered round,
Once invitations had been found.
And settled down to muesii mix
As Frank looked on, his gaze transfixed.
Suppressing fits of raucous laughs
Dear Frank observed an odd blood bath.
For as his fellow chums tucked in
Their innards tore with steel and tin.
Now hamsters being what they are,
Frank kept the parts inside a jar.
A memory of his bravest jape
To scare young kids, should mick they take.
But hamster exploits don't lay easy
And soon Frank's jar became quite cheesy.
The hamster folk, their conscience pinched,
Waylaid their foe and Frank was lynched.
The moral of this story lies
Behind those beady hamster eyes.
On little wheels these rodents spin
But 'neath the moon they'll knife your kin.
Dogs and Mutts
Dogs and mutts of varied hues
May sit in streets and avenues
Barking softly at the moon
Or singing each dog-babe his croon.
But each suburban dog or dame
Hangs around for fear of blame
From woolly types of sheepish nature
Known by woolish nomenclature.
Should a mongrel stray from home
Into the country fields to roam
A sheepish gaze will fall from face
And butt the joke of japes of race.
For once upon a fleecy time
Vicious monsters quite ovine
Would track down dogs and tear their flesh
And eat them soon while they were fresh.
So how did changes come about
From servitude to canine clout.
A revolution soon was caused
By four-foot, long-haired pointy paws.
They'd had enough, it must be said;
Beneath a flock no lower'd head.
Against the grindstone snouts had been,
Now sweetened air and sun was seen.
Sheepish types soon fled from grace
As mutts achieved their rightful place.
Although against this wool oppression
Dogs have made but one concession.
For when a man asks dogs to hold
A fearful flock within the fold.
It will not bite or kick their shins
It simply locks the gate and grins.
This is the canines simple joy
From dachshund down to sweet borzoi
They could not care as long as they
Extract the fun from those who slay.
But fear is in a dog called Ian;
Because his owners are Korean.
Famous Herds of Buffalo
Famous herds of Buffalo
All seem to hide in places low.
Beneath your chair or softest sofa
Lies a thing that ain't a gopher.
Lumps may rise among your pillows
But, although your father bellows,
Never touch their horns and mites
Because these cow-types harbour spite.
It seems that while the Yankies sleep
The balaclava'd buffalo creep
Into their rooms and slaughter them
And blame it on Hispanic men.
Both C.N.N. and National News
Have each extended futile views,
But in their own naivety
They never check the bulls that day.
The facts remain in darkest files
Beneath the ground and stood in piles.
Each Native Yank of long-lost creed
Will never live to sow his seed.
It seems, before the Injuns came,
Each Buffalo had widespread fame
They topped the charts with ballads beefy
Leaving none for Louis Leakey.
So if your grandpa, great or greater
Shot a yak-type, skinned then ate her.
Hide your name from the phone directory
Or else your buns will burn directly.
Although their fame has been and gone
And burgers are their last swan-song;
Buffalo vengeance will be theirs
And you'll be hung by the curly hairs.
Here's the Woodworm
Here's the woodworm; hear their plan
For it effects each living man
It seems through years of evolution
They've conceived their own solution
A letter came to heads of state
The writing small, the message great
Should humans fail to recognise
This threat then they'll reduce in size
At first the congress laughed a bit
Until a paragraph small writ
Was found in fine print 'neath the former -
The message burned like curried korma
A world wide broadcast soon relayed
The words derision had delayed
From woodworm-ese announcers read
"Surrender arms or you'll be dead!"
The details followed in a message:
Woodworms would soon cause man deathage
Gas or bombs will not protect
A man once insect mind is set
Their plan once hatched, it was unveiled,
Was for the worms to mountains scale
And chew them down from cloudy mist
At once the humans knew their fear
No land! No gravity - oh dear!
This kamikaze insect threat
Would spin them into space - dead set!
But then an Attenborough type
Stood up and said "This isn't right.
These termite sorts just chew on wood
Their threat to earth just isn't good"
On hearing this the woodworm ceased
Their threat to man and gal and beast:
"We took a chance, we must admits
We didn't think you'd fall for it."
And so the humans let them off
With laughs and patronizing scoffs:
"Such mini-beasts can never halt
A human race quite worth it's salt."
The insects grinned and went their way
And thought about some other day.
For woodworms learnt from all their pains -
Their next plan hits the Stock Exchange.
Killer kittens are a danger,
Almost deadly as a ranger.
Mounted police soon feel the burn
Of kitten killers sweet return.
Fluffy on their outside fur,
Their inside bits conceal a spur
Of pointy iron or maybe steel -
Metallic stabbing things for squeals.
But such is kitten's soft veneer
That gentle family life is smeared.
Allow such pussies in your home
And final words will be last groans.
A kitten may be cute in Winter
Soft and warm, like Alan Minter.
But this is just a moral isthmus;
Swamped too soon, just after Christmas.
Then January plants a doubt,
Which February gives some clout
Until a kitten's burden comes
They'll see canals within the slums.
Into the murky gloom they sink
Though not to doom; they ain't extinct.
Although you stick them in a sack
A psycho-kitten will be back!
Nancy Beaver likes a log
But can mistake one for a dog.
And once in every blue'ish moon
She chews on mutts to carve out spoons.
So all around the neighbourhood
Before the dusk, when light is good
The people run and hide their hounds
Avoiding canine-shavings mounds.
But Nancy though, feels quite ashamed
From kicks to knifings she's been blamed.
For even if a woofter's grazed,
The Beaverdom is quite amazed.
Now, stories come and stories go
So don't get angry when this blows.
Though pointy-teeth and dams aplenty
Beaver types are not for gentry.
Once in every gene-pool mix
A rodent comes and gets it's kicks.
And mutant weirdos shunned by beavers
Fight some dogs and use their cleavers.
It seems young Nancy's just the same;
By sunlight calm, at night insane.
Slashing mongrels here and there
And rubbing spaniels till they're bare.
Rivers 'dammed' don't get their name
From branches in the way of same.
For flappy tails and pointy teeth
Produce a river with some grief.
The bottom line is this it seems,
Please never trust a rodent's schemes.
And when you do appoint a jury
To save yourself from beaver fury.
Kittens got their mitts on me
And beat me to a pulp
The rozzers caught them by the scruff
And charged them with assault
They laughed a bit and ficked a 'V'
Then ran off down the street
Cos kittens laugh at danger
And they stay out late all week
I saw some hit a badger
And they ran off with his shoes
They hung out in the local woods
With fags and cans of booze
On Sunday they stole seven cars
All drunk on alcopops
By Monday they were back in town
And nicking stuff from shops
The locals say they've had enough
And want them all locked up
But all the cats say it's okay
They're just some cheeky pups.
There Lived a Snail
There lived a snail his name was Niles
He spent his life in pain
Just dragging his sad arse around
With piles up to his brain.
Until one day a thought occured
To leave his awful plight
And join a trade and soon become
A stuntman for respite.
As easy as a big breath out
Young Niles did join the guild
And when the gorgeous actors called
He stopped them being killed.
His name soon spread from set to set
Until a truth was spouted
His shell was false - a plastic fake
A slug had then been 'outed'
But snail or foe it mattered not
The public still adored him
In every action film he's made
Accountants still applaud him.
And now it seems young Niles is free
To be a slug of fashion -
Invertebrates - so Disney says -
Are just the types to cash on.
I've Never Met A Terrier
I've never met a terrier so dark and never hairier
Than Tim the tiny terrier and his compadre Max
They ran from cities Mexican and thus improved their lexicon
Though mute as such, respect to them for self-improvement hopes
They ran amok in Texas too, the locals said "They vexed us too!"
This canine pair, this Tex-Mex two; their deeds were held in awe.
And thence throughout America, until their tale reached Erica
A hunter and a ferreter, a tracker of repute.
She set out on their trail of woe to bring an end, curtail her foe,
From state to state in hail and snow she vowed to bring them down.
All unbeknownst were Tim and Max continuing their sinful sacks
Of cities, hovels, old tin shacks - no stone was left unturned.
Til finally Tim met his match and Erica sought to despatch
This dogged duo: not mis-matched, but born to run amok.
She gunned Max down but Tim was saved, his hide though bloodied just was grazed
He lived to die on other days and headed way out west.
Now time's gone by but tales live on and Tim lives with his wife Yvonne
He tells their kids of all his wrongs and things he never did.
And by a grave near Santa Fe stands Erica on dusty days
With one lone tombstone in her gaze and salty tears she cries.
She'll ne'er forget that dogged foe whose life she brought to bitter close
And somewhere else the wind does blow a tune for mighty Max.
Have You Ever (Aardvark)
Have you ever touched an Aardvark?
Gloves are not that clever
Although a knife's a handy thing
They'll sniff you hell for leather
Aardvark ears are soft and tender
You can rub them silly -
Not so unlike worn in Levi's
Or a large goat's billy.
Grey of skin but sharp of mind
Their brains aren't quite so easy,
But please alert Vidal Sassoon
If aardvarks seem too greasy.
For dandruff is an earth-pig's plight
Although they seem so dapper
Without a Head and Shoulders scrub
These guys would all be slappers.
'The truth will out', or so it's said
This is the aardvark's plight
To be or not, to wash or go
Then rave on through the night.
- Aardvarks live near Kilimanjaro,
Their ears are wide but their snouts are naarrow -
Have You Ever (Coypu)
Have you ever touched a Coypu?
If you have you'll know what they do.
Cos these beasts contain an odour
That can drive a man to chowder -
Soups and dips and cottage-pie
Can top a normal clean-lived guy.
Those big buck-teeth and well waxed fur
Have tempted man since cats did purr.
So if you balance on the edge
Please never switch on Sister Sledge.
Do not think you cannot be swayed;
Remember Coypu's can be paid.
Many men of odd persuasion
Have been caught on oft occasion
Dabbling in those Coypu ways
On ministerial unfilled days.
And so the story tells itself -
Leave the coypu on the shelf.
( Stick to gals with pointy teeth,
And stay away from life's bad beef )
Monkeys, Gibbons, Apes...
Monkeys, gibbons, apes and chimps:
Those furry forest dwellers
Are here at last - it's come the time
To talk of hairy fellas.
So you want chimpanzees? I'll tell ya'
Of the deeds they do
You think old Davey Attenborough's
Pushed the facts right through?
Those TV types have cameras
With film they soon can edit
And if an ape does something clever
Viewers fail to get it.
Conspiracy is what's at work
The Beeb will never tell ya'
Of the things they do with chainsaws -
For the facts will fell ya'
The monkey-brains seem less than sharp
And so are easy led
And all believe the words
That a biologist has said.
The scientists as lumberjacks
Perform an action heinous
The chimps all sign the contracts
Thinking they will soon be famous
But, oh, the laugh is on the side
Of cheeky monkey face
Without the trees and ozone layer
There'll be no human race
To act all dumb was just a ploy
To reel the humans in
The chimps have plotted and prepared
With tanks of oxygen.
So to the wild apes will return
Their nappies soon cast out
They said,"I'd rather bare my butt
Than bind it in false doubt."
As evolution made them furry
Brains were also dealt
While monkeys got the higher card
Man crapped where he had dwelt.
Alligators! Alligators! Om-pom-push!
They will always mug you if you're standing by a bush.
If you're on a pavement or beside a floral border
It's guaranteed the buggers will leap out and stab and sword ya'!
Queueing for a telephone or waiting for a cab
Those scaly skins will soon rush out to nick your best handbag.
If innocently hanging round until you lass turns up
Just be aware of 'gators who will gag to rough you up.
If sitting in a cinema and waiting for a movie
Just run if you feel motions in your popcorn that ain't groovy.
For they are alligators - they are here and all about,
You'll recognise them by the way they rip your gizzard out!
A Long Ago and Far Away
A long ago and far away
When fish had limbs and come what may
No man could tell them what to do
Or plunge them in a bouilebaise stew.
There lived a group of gill-type guys
With fins where people now have thighs
Who swam about and did their thing
Without the need for lung-breathing
And they were happy till they saw
The dudes on land who had a floor
And legs that walked both left and right
To all the fish this caused much fright
'For if on land they're only stuck
'They'll rid the sea and dry it up.
'Our oceans gone?! We must attack
'And send out lobsters in plain macs.'
So masked crustaceans soon went out
To glean the facts for furtive trout.
They soon came back and it was known
'The humans have took over town.'
A plan was hatched to do them down
Though ancient codfish gave a frown
'These lung-types may have taken over'
'But we're down here in seaweed clover.'
But all to no avail was he
The fish leapt out from undersea
All armed with guns and pointy knives
To no avail - they gave their lives.
About a minute on the beach
One noticed,'There's no juice in reach.
'We cannot breathe without the sea
'Retreat! Retreat! Cod follow me!'
And so while humans trawl the depths
And Captain Birdseye pays his reps
The fish will keep their piscine lair
Until they master breathing air.
Polar bears are unlike dogs
Their fur is of a different tog.
If travelling to a hotter clime
These bears ensure they shave in time
And wear about them lighter sheets
To compensate on warmer streets.
For bears so polar can be chic,
They travel if their interest`s piqued
To see what others wear this season
And solely for no other reason.
If truth be known they would dress bolder
But months are mainly cold or colder.
So think of this and polar plight
When next you hear of six month night
These distant bears still keep on track,
For white, it`s said, is this years black.
They differ from a swaddled terrier
Which has tartan on it`s derriere.
I Met Monkeys
I met monkeys in an alley
First they smiled all nice and pally
Then they turned and swore at me
In monkey-speak quite naturally.
A gibbon with a distant reach
Swung hard and fast - he missed a peach!
So reaching down I took a stone
And broke his little ape head-bone.
A chimp ran out from shadows dark
He carried chinese stars
He launched them in my general way -
They missed me by a yard.
Then suddenly two marmosets
Came at me with a spear
I stood my ground and screamed in rage
They wet themselves with fear.
So truth be told, if apes attack
And posture like a crew
Just grit your teeth and urge them on -
They'll never follow through.
Angela Mutanda had a large offensive panda
That would swear at all the people in the town
It would say,"You are a bender!"
To odd folk of any gender
And then give them quite an awful dressing down
He was vicious to old ladies and would curse at lovely babies
As they nestled by their mother's fearful heart
Shouting "Silence! Wretched midget,"
"As you cry and mule and fidget,"
"You are ugly and you smell like Satan's fart!"
Any folk who saw him coming would pack up and start a-running
Fearing any word that sprang forth from his tongue
Til he saw a kindly vet
Who soon diagnosed Tourettes
Now he's loved by all the people he's among.
Mr Fitzsimmons was hard on his gibbons
He thrashed them from morning to night
Till sadly they snapped and his ass was quite capped
By a simian bearing armed might.
From there they broke free and with gibbonish glee
They sped through the town causing havoc
Till they stumbled upon a young girl called Yvonne
And they tied her in vines and a hammock
She called out to one as he dangled and hung
And he pitied the girl's situation
So with thumbs at half-mast he untangled the lass
And they made off at high brachiation.
The gibbon though mute was both charming and cute
And Yvonne was entranced by her saviour
Now they've settled in Kent for he soon did repent
But she won't permit monkey behaviour.
Alan Was An Animal
Alan was an animal
I know not of his ilk
His hair was of the finest kind
It's touch as soft as silk
His teeth were big and pointy
And his muscles hard and strong
His genitals were small but apt
And nestled in his thong.
His legs stuck out with mighty knees
Which bent opposing ways
His eyes were of a fiery kind
And few would meet his gaze
With talons like an eagle
And small wings that flew no more
He'd scrape across the lino
And be charming on the floor
But don't be fooled - he's dangerous
This half-cocked bestial rocket
But just for now i keep him safe
Within my trouser pocket.