Richard Pierson

I am a flower,
Who stands in the garden.
When people say I'm pretty,
I'm embarrassed - Oh Pardon!
People come to smell me,
I think it's great.
Sometimes dogs do,
That I hate.

I'm out in all weathers,
The rain and the shine.
My petals are like feathers,
The colour of red wine.

My life is not long,
Time goes too quickly.
Sometimes I get trod on,
Sometimes people pick me.

Blognog was a tortoise
With a very battered shell.
Blognog was a tortoise
Who fell down a well.

He fell down a well,
And landed, you can tell,
In a bucket at the end of a rope.
There wasn't much water,
But to swim he had oughta,
To survive he had to cope.

A man at the top,
Pulled up the bucket,
Blognog, out did pop.
The man jumped back amazed,
He was utterly dazed,
Took Blognog to a pet shop.

I'm a baby spider,
Dangling from the ceiling.
While I'm small, people like me,
But when I'm large, I'm not so appealing.

The Antique Seller,
Was a very old feller,
Lurking in the back of his stall.
He couldn't be seen,
Thin as a bean,
And also not very tall.

He was Mr Mellor,
This very old feller,
Lurking in the back of his stall.
He'd sell you a pot,
That would cost you a lot,
He certainly has lots of gall.

How much is this old feller?
They as Mr Mellor,
Lurking in the back of his stall.
Fifty pounds, he said,
Faces went red,
That's expensive for an old ball.

Dringol and Drangol
Went for a dangle,
To dangle their rods in a pond.
To catch some fish is their intent,
To catch some fish they were hell bent,
To catch them together was their bond.

Dringol and Drangol,
Whilst having their dangle,
Something pulled at their rod,
'Lets heave it up.' Said Dringol to Drangol,
'Perhaps it will be a cod.'

'It won't be a cod.'
Said Drangol to Dringol.
'They don't live around here.'
'It can't be a cod, I'm sorry to harp.'
'But it could be a very big carp.'

Dringol and Drangol
Reeled in their line,
Each were saying
'It's mine. It's mine.'
As they pulled, the line got taught.
'Let us see what we have caught.'

When at last it came into view,
They both fell back with an enormous phew!
It wasn't a fish that had been caught.
Not to expect was what they were taught,
Because all they got was a rotten old shoe.

She's at it again,
With needle and thread,
From first getting up,
To the time for bed.

Cross stitch.
It's taking over her life,
Making lots of designs,
Is my little old wife.

Making pictures, making cards,
Using Aida, using yards.
Lots of threads, lots of shades,
Beautiful pictures, all hand made.

Gringlegang, Bonglewort, Bindle and Bong,
Vendebing, Anglebong, all came along.
To see the rising of the Moonflake Blang.
Many a nurdle joined the merrified gang.

Vendebing and Anglebong bought lots of food,
Salad was alright, the sausages were rude.
Lots of eats were had by all,
To make such a meal took lots of gall.

Gringlegang, Bonglewort, Bindle and Bong,
All came along singing their song.
The strange quartet were all happy and gay,
Singing their song, day after day.

The Moonflake Blang is what they sang,
What it means, I don't give a hang.
But a good day was had by all,
Some got excited, others kept their cool.

By the end of the day, they outdid their stay,
All returning home without further delay.
Gringlegang, Bonglewort, Bindle and Bong,
Vendebing, Anglebong, all singing their song.

Honeys' a dog who likes lots of cuddles,
When she drinks too much, makes lots of puddles.
She often dreams and flickers her feet,
And when very good is given a treat.

There was a young lady called Mandy,
Who was very keen on lemonade shandy.
If she gulps it too quick.
It would make her go hick.
So drinking slowley would be handy.

The woodman with his axe struck at the trunk
Of a tree which had stood for many a year;
The blade of the axe was buried into the bark
And pulled out again, just missing a lark,
Small wood pieces were being shot about
At such a speed that one had to look out
For wild pieces that came at you;
The axe was speedily cutting into the tree
Chopping parts out easily;
The woodman had now got half way through,
Meaning that now there is little to do.
The tree was by now leaning over.
Twelve more swings it took the man
Before the tree fell - crash - bang!