Up in the green
Searching for places
Still tidy and clean.
Well I’ve made such a mess
It’s just got to be seen!”
Litter–bug litter–bug
You’re mean
Real mean.
SOS LOST WHALE!
Far out in the sea lived a whale
With a great dashing lashing big tail.
It smashed as it bashed
And it crashed as it slashed
And it flashed – and got lost in the gale!
MISS PEAR
Miss Pear! Miss Pear!
Miss Pear is in despair
(She’s really very sad!)
Miss Pear! Miss Pear!
Miss Pear – don’t despair!
It can’t be all that bad.
Miss Pear! Miss Pear!
Miss Pear! She doesn’t care
(She’s really glum!)
Miss Pear! Miss Pear!
She needs some air –
She’s hopelessly in love with Mr Plum.
And this – this Plum? (Now that she has made
her heart bare).
The wretch! “But all I wanted was to peel Miss
Pear!”
GROWING PAINS IN ONE KNEE
How would you like to be
a weenshy little flea
a weenshy little flea
with a pain in one knee?
His knee is so small
he can’t see it at all
“Is it growing pains I have?” says he.
Weenshy little flea
try a compress of cold tea
it works. Always worked for me.
“Hm… Maybe…”
sighs the flea.
“You see
what’s worryin’ me
is I’m in agony
but, golly gee,
only in the one knee …”
Spare a little thought for the fleas …
their little knees
THE FIRE-EATING MOTH
The fire-eating moth is a sucker for fame
And dances and jumps to applause,
“There’s nothing,” he says, “to compare with a flame,”
(Which he chews without using his jaws).
A remarkable fellow, the fire–eating moth,
He has never been scorched, as of yet …
Except once and he yelled: “This flame is thoo hoth!
Geth me a drink – one that’s weth!”
LATE AGAIN! (YET AGAIN)
It’s two o’clock in the morning,
The crow has lost his way,
His wife in her sleep is turning,
Very soon it will be day!
At last he’s found his nest,
He snuggles so quietly in:
When, nestling up to her breast,
Suddenly – there’s an awful din!
“Caw Caw! He’s back! He’s back! He’s back!
Caw Caw!” They sing and jeer.
“Sorry,” he says, “night was so black!
Breakfast in bed, my dear?”
CABBAGE
I think I’ve got a slug, said the Cabbage,
Something’s crawling over me,
Try to get it out .. can you manage?
Oh, please hurry Mr Chicory.
I’m doing my best, says Chicory. Lord above!
It’s not a slug you’ve got – it’s two!
And if I’m not mistaken, they seem to be in love –
No, not with one another, dear – with you!
CANUTE
“Nobody ever talks to me,”
says poor Canute Cucumber.
“Nobody takes a walk with me
or says I’m a cute Cucumber.
“What on God’s earth can one do?
One feels so terribly green;
Must one wait till one’s twenty–two
Before one is heard of or seen?
“Nobody ever talks to me,
I wonder is it my name?
Nobody takes a walk with me
Really, you know, it’s a shame!”
WUFF
Dark…
Dogs bark …
I hear them howl,
Growl…
WUFF!
What are they saying?
What are they baying?
Wuff! Wuff–wuff!
Wuff!
You’d think by now they’d had enough
AULD LANG SYNE
“Who is crying over there?”
“Who disturbs the evening air?”
“Pineappple, is it you?
Are you blue?”
“Tell us what’s wrong!”
“I pine … I pine for a song…”
“Oh pineapple! Silly, silly! Why pine?
Let us all sing, Auld Lang Syne!”
SHADY BANANA
“Dr Spinach will see you now, Mr Banana,
Step right this way please.”
“Thank you Miss Parsley – I – I mean Anna –
Excuse me I’m going to sn- sneeze!”
“Well well, Mr Banana – let’s see how you look.
Still green with envy, poor sod:
Take to your bed and read a good book –
The Koran, the Bible – anything, by God!”
SEA BEE
There once was a small honey bee
Went out on the wide open sea,
Flying for hours
Searching for flowers –
It never came back for its tea.
PROFESSOR X GOES SPLAT!
Professor X does not agree
With either colleague, A or B:
“No no no, it cannot be …
You see …”
Professor B swallows a pill.
He has truly had his fill.
Professor X he’d like to kill.
“Someday I will,” he says, “I will.”
Professor A just stares ahead,
Hasn’t heard a word’s been said.
Got out wrong side of bed,
Only half alive, half dead …
Professor X says: “Well, that’s that…”
Goes to put on scarf and hat.
Professor A says: “Look, a rat!”
Hits him with his brolly – splat!
THE CAUTIONARY TALE OF THE HORSERADISH
The Pumpkin laughed out loud:
“I don’t mind being fat at all,
I sometimes feel like a cloud
Or like snow that’s about to fall.”
“I see,” Horseradish replied,
“Well, that’s fine for you, I suppose;
As for me, I could grow if I tried …
Want to see? Alright – here goes!”
So he blew and he blew and he blew
And got terribly red in the face,
And he grew and he grew and he grew
And went POP! (without leaving a trace).
CHARLES THE WOODWORM
Charles the woodworm
is sitting for his exam:
“So many types of wood
all I can say is DAMN!
Coniferous… deciduous…
always mix up the two.
Oh, the world would be a forest
if we’d no exams to do.”
BULLY
The Italian tomato, Tomasi, is going around
depressed:
“Oh, what a bully, that coconut. I’ll tear all the
hair off his chest!”
“Si, si,” says the Spanish lemon, “I agree –
damn his hide.’
Shall we open him up, amigo? I’m sure he is
milky and watery inside!”
HARRY
Harry the ant
He wore no clothes
No clothes
No clothes at all!
I can’t
I can’t
Said Harry the ant …
Why? Sure nobody knows.
&
nbsp; No clothes
No clothes
He wore no clothes
He wore no clothes at all.
What did he wear?
He wore a rose
At the Earwig’s Fancy Ball.
DOLLY THE DONKEY DANCES, AGAIN
I have trimmed my eyebrows and lashes too,
Put powder all over my nose,
Painted my lips a fashionable blue
To match my toes.
Let us dance, sweet jackass, me and you
In our best clothes:
You are fragrant and gentle – rain on a rose –
You know that I love you – I do!
US VOLES
We’re not very common, said the Vole,
In fact one might say we are rare,
Don’t expect us in any old hole –
There are few of us voles to spare.
Our club is well known – The Élite –
MEMBERS ONLY PLEASE!
We frown upon smelly feet
And voles that don’t know how to sneeze!
MULE
Don’t call me a mool
To rhyme with a stool
I’m a mule –
Fool!
MULE!
Did I hear you say mool?
You can jump in a pool!
I’m a mule –
Ghoul!
MULE!
So you think it’s real cool
To call me a mool –
Were you never at school?
Fool!
I’M A MULE!
HENRY HOOTER HAD A FLEA
Henry Hooter had a flea,
He pecked at it and hurt his knee:
“I greatly fear, I greatly fear
This flea might end up in my ear!”
Henry Hooter had a flea,
It tickled him: “Oo! Hee–hee!
Little flea, please go away
And don’t come back another day.”
Henry Hooter had a flea,
“Why pick on me? Flea, why me?
Where are you flea? Speak up! Where?
Damn your hide! It just ain’t fair!”
Henry Hooter had a flea,
He pecked at it and hurt his knee:
“I greatly fear, I greatly fear
This flea might vanish up my rear!”
FIRST
Who was the first to blow his nose?
Who was the first to tip his toes?
Who the first to pluck a rose?
Who first scratched his head?
Who first baked bread?
Who first fell out of bed?
Who was the first to sail a ship?
Who was the first to bite his lip?
Who the first to swallow a pip?
Who first milked a cow?
Who first enquired how?
Who first learned to bow?
Who was the first to dream a dream?
Who was the first to scream a scream?
Who the first to whip cream?
Who first climbed a hill?
Who first – Jack or Jill?
Who first paid a bill?
Who was the first to never say “Blast!”
Who was the first to break a fast?
Who the first to come in last?
THE RETURN OF THE DODO
You thought I was dead!
Well I’m back,
seeing red!
Dead as a dodo?
No no! No no!
I was hiding all along…
Now my friends,
Here’s my song:
Dead as a dodo?
No no! No no!
Dead as a dodo?
No no! No no!
I hid under a rock,
I hid under a tree,
I said to myself:
‘They’re not going to get me!’
Dead as a dodo?
No no! No no!
I hid beside a cliff,
I hid in a cave,
I said to myself,
Dead as a dodo?
No no! No no!
Dead as a dodo?
No no! No no!
I hid in a gully,
I hid in a creek,
Every day
Was hide–and–go–seek.
Dead as a dodo?
No no! No no!
I hid in a gutter,
I hid in a sewer,
All my companions
Getting fewer and fewer.
Dead as a dodo?
No no! No no!
Dead as a dodo?
No no! No no!
THE DUCK–BILLED PLATYPUS
I’m unique,
It’s my beak!
Or – if you prefer – my bill…
It gives everyone a thrill!
I may seem to be a freak
(Because of my beak)
But, actually, I’m unique.
I’ve even been called an antique!
Indeed – if I may dare –
I would call myself quite rare!
You see, it’s my bill – or my beak –
Which I beg you not to tweak!
THE TALE OF A RAT
It’s not easy being a rat,
You could end up just like that – Splat!
How hard it is to be a rat.
Why wasn’t I born a fat
Cat?
And yet… I like being a rat,
Even though sometimes I’m spat
At!
LETTER FROM A MOUSE
Dear Friend,
(You can skip this and go to the end):
As you can see, I am out of breath,
This is a matter of life and death.
Please, please
Please send some cheese.
French blue would be fine
And a little drop of wine.
If you have some cheddar
All the better.
Just, please.
Send cheese.
If it has holes, I don’t mind,
Oh, by the way, I’m fond of the rind.
I don’t care if it’s smelly!
Can’t you hear my rumbling belly?
Please, please,
Send cheese.
It can be dreamy
Or soft and creamy
Swiss
Would be bliss.
I could say much
About Dutch.
From a sheep, or a goat, or a cow,
Just send it anyhow.
It can be yellow or green
(I don’t care where it’s been).
White?
That’s alright.
Write to me soon, if you please.
(P.S. Don’t forget the cheese).
CENTIPEDE
A centipede
Is not known for its speed
But she has a hundred legs
And can lay eggs
Not bad? Pretty good, I’d say!
How many eggs can you lay?
A centipede…
Indeed.
Every time a centipede wiggles
The earth giggles
And says: ‘Tickle me some more!
Tickle me to the core!’
The earth needs
Its centipedes.
GABRIEL ROSENSTOCK (below) is a poet, author/translator of over 150 books, mostly in Irish. He taught haiku at the Schule für Dichtung (Poetry Academy) in Vienna. Among his awards is the Tamgha I Kidmat medal for services to literature.
His vast output includes stage plays, plays for radio and television (RTÉ, Raidió na Life), novels and short stories, essays, criticism, travel literature, children’s literature in prose and verse, including Irish versions of such classics as The Gruffalo and hundreds of translations of TV series such as Spongebob and The Muppet Show. Among the anthologies in which he is represented is Best European Fiction 2012 (Dalkey Archive Press, USA).
MÍCHEÁL Ó HAODHA lectures in the Department of
History, University of Limerick. He has published widely on Irish migration, the Irish diaspora, social geography and oral history. His books include American ‘Outsider’:Stories from the Irish Traveller Diaspora (2007, with T.J. Vernon); ‘The Turn of the Hand’: A Memoir from the Irish Margins (2010, with Mary Ward) and ‘On the Run’: The Diary of an Irish Republican (2011, with Ruan O’Donnell).