The Ape Next Door (poem)

There’s an ape next door called Martin,
He isn’t very bright
You cannot have a chat with him
He always thinks he’s right

His knuckles drag along the floor:
His arms are six feet long.
Be careful not to stand too close
(His Daddy was King Kong)

The only dream within his head
Is he can play guitar
While you may hear a strangled cat
He thinks that he’s a star

The fleas hop on his balding head
They do a little dance
Happy that they’re not the ones
Living in his pants

He struggles in the modern world
He’s ill-equipped for life
And if you think that HE is bad
Then you should meet his wife!


For the origin of this poem, check out:

Mum vs the Dragon (poem)

The little lad came bursting in
“Dad,” he cried, “come quick!
A dragon is attacking Mum;
She’s only got a stick!”

“Calm down, lad,” the dad replied,
Giving him a look.
“The dragon’s in with half a chance”
And continued with his book


The Man in the Moon and Friends (poem)

The bee in the bonnet
Sang me a sonnet
She sang it to me daily

She sang me a sonnet
With custard upon it
Then danced a buzzy ceilidh

The boy in the bubble
Bounced into trouble
He bounced into trouble daily

He bounced into trouble
Quick on the double
And laughed about it gaily

The five-fingered fish
Whispered a wish
Whispered it to me daily

He whispered a wish
Gave his tail a swish
But still turned out all scaly


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“W is for… Why?” (poem)

“Tell me, Daddy, tell me why!
You’d put an apple in a pie!

“Where do thoughts come from?
Where do dreams go?
How do I know that I know what I know?

“How do clocks know what time it is?
When I have a cold, and I’m streaming with snot
Do I have inside me, a mucus-y pot?

“What does Santa do, the rest of the year?
Why is the moon as big as the sun?
How can battles be lost, and won?

“Where do my socks disappear in the dryer?
What is light made of? What does it do?
Why is my soul on the base of my shoe?

“Come on, Daddy, tell me please!”

“Err… maybe your mother can help you with these”


“V is for… Vampire!” (poem)

If vampires have no reflection,
How do they style their hair?
How do they brush their teeth,
Or practice a hypnotic stare?

How do they check their shirt’s tucked in,
Or that their tie is straight,
When entertaining brides-to-be
On a romantic date?

How do they cope with shaving
(Does undead hair still grow?)
There are so many things about vampires
That I would like to know!


“L is for… Liar!” (poem)

Little Lisa liked to lie,
She lied the whole day long.
If she even tried the truth
It just came out all wrong.

She’s a dis-honest dodger
A diddler, a cheat
Chock-full of chicanery
Fake falsehoods and deceit!

Call it lies, fibs, porky pies,
Or just bending the truth,
If she tells you a story
You’d better check for proof!

Lying comes easy to some
While others need to try
But one thing Lisa could naturally do
Was lie, lie, LIE !


“I is for… Ignatius Imp” (poem)

Ignatius the Imp
(Or Iggy for short)
Is a mischievous rascal
Who’s never been caught

He spends all his days
Imagining schemes
For pranking his way
Deep into your dreams!

He’ll steal your socks
(Just one at a time)
And leave your toothbrush
All covered in slime

He dials your phone
Right when you’re asleep
He makes your nice shirt
Look crumpled and cheap

He’ll hide in a box
And jump out at you
Then sprinkle some glue
Inside of your shoe

Ignatius the Imp
(Or Iggy for short)
Is a mischievous rascal.
The very worst sort!