Mightier Than The Pen

Making The World A Bitter Place

Perhaps “Original” Is Too Weak a Word

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Rock-a-bye baby on the treetop,
The child welfare agents will put a stop
To the abuse that does them appall –
What parent would put you on something so tall?

Ring around a rosy
The neighbors got too nosy.
Ashes, ashes,
Their house burned down.

As I was going to St. Ives
I came down with a case of hives.
Each hive had seven pustules
Each pustule, seven lives.
Lives, sores, pus, hives:
Remind me why I should be in St. Ives?

Jack be nimble,
Jack be quick:
Jack’s real secret:
An asbestos wick.

Thirty days have September
The rest of this I can’t remember
Mostly because there are myriad ways
To render the dog’rel ’bout months and their days.
Some versions struggle to fit in a rhyme
Using “February,” which, uh, doesn’t really lend itself to that.

Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb
Mary had little lamb, whose fleece was white as snow.
She had it with a side of rice, side of rice, side of rice
She had it with a side of rice and a baked po-ta-to.


Written by Thag

May 23, 2010 at 10:42 am

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