RANDOM RHYMES & OTHER STUFF

            I think I’ll call this section of my blog “Random Rhymes and Other Stuff”.  Why?  Uh…well…because that’s what you’ll find here.  And I’ll start with something I stole from a children’s book, which I thought would make a good game to play with my grandsons on a rainy day.  I start the rhyme, and then each of us takes a turn with a spur-of-the-moment stanza.   Like this:

GRAMPA:    There was an old lady who swallowed a fly.                                                                    I don’t know why she swallowed the fly.

            JOEY:             Neither do I.

                                    Maybe she heaved a really big sigh

                                    Just as the fly was flying on by.

                                    I don’t know why she swallowed the fly.

            DAVID:          Neither do I.

                                    Maybe she just looked up at the sky

                                    And opened her mouth ‘cause the sky was so high.

                                    I don’t know why she swallowed the fly.

            RORDAN:     Neither do I.

                                    Maybe she walked in a field of cow pies.

                                    I would surmise that cow pies draw flies.

                                    I don’t know why she swallowed the fly.

            JASON:          Neither do I.

                                    But I bet if she stepped on a cow pie with flies,

                                    When she swallowed that fly it was quite a surprise.

                                    I don’t know why she swallowed the fly.

            OLIVER:         Neither do I.

                                    Maybe she had a sty in her eye.

                                    Sties are well known to attract a few flies.

                                    I don’t know why she swallowed the fly.

            BENJAMIN: Neither do I.

                                    Maybe the fly had a sty in its  eye

                                    And just couldn’t see the mouth standing by.

                                    I don’t know why she swallowed the fly.

            GRAMPA:    Neither do I.

                                    But what I do know about this lady and fly

                                    Is that neither one is like you and I.

                                    We just don’t know why she swallowed the fly.

            That was fun, wasn’t it?  Well, I enjoyed it, and I bet the boys would, too.  Boys seem to like crazy rhymes.  Like this next one, the first part of which appeared on a towel our daughter-in-law Gillian sent to Barbara for Mother’s Day; the second part is, of course, my idea.

            Grandmothers are a special part

            Of all that’s cherished in the heart.

            Grandfathers must be set apart

            ‘Cause all they do is burp and fart.

            That’s sort of an old guy’s thing that leads me to this next rhyme about taking Ginkgo Biloba as you get older to help protect against memory loss.  You can sing it to the tune of “Roll Out the Barrel”, if you’d like to (and why wouldn’t you?).

            Ginkgo Biloba!  I’ll never forget What’s-Her-Name.

            Ginkgo Biloba!  Her name and mine are the same.

            Ginkgo Biloba!  I hope I remember next year

            That my Ginkgo needs a new Biloba

            When the gang’s all here.

            And that leads to a rhyme I’ve entitled “Where Are My Car Keys”, dedicated to people who misplace other people’s things.  They misplace their own things, too, because they never put anything back where they found it or where it belongs.

            I like to find things where I put them.

            Please, don’t move them around.

            I always leave the car keys in my in-box.

            If they’re not there, they'll never be found.

                                               

            That letter I wrote to the doctor?

            It’s not there on the stairs anymore.

            Did you move it to a new location?

          Or did it get up and walk out the door?

            I have to find things where I put them,

            Not randomly scattered about.

            ‘Cause if there not there when I want them,

            I can’t help it, I just start to shout.

            So, please, leave those things where I put them.

            Please, don’t move them I-don’t-know-where.

            I put them in that place for a purpose:

            So, I’d find them when I look around there.                                    

 

            Okay, a little sports rhyme now.  I wrote this while I was watching Italy play in the World Cup Soccer Championships.  I forget the year; but that’s not important because the rhyme is forgettable, too.  You can also sing this rhyme, to the tune of “Frere Jacque”, even though the key words in it are Italian: Fuori Gioco (Offside);  Gambattesa (Kicking an Opponent’s Leg).  A player who gets a red card  is banished from the game.   Bobo Vieri, Totti, Del Piero, and Montella are names of Italian players.

            Fuori Gioco!  Fuori Gioco!

            Offside too!  Offside too!

            Your team is in a hole now.

            They nullified your goal now.

            ‘Nil for you.  ‘Nil for you.

            Gambattesa!  Gambattesa!

            Who kicked who?  Who kicked who?

            You kicked a little too hard.

            You’re gonna get a red card.

            Shame on you.  Shame on you.

            Bobo Vieri!  Bobo Vieri!

            Totti too!  Totti too!

            Del Piero’s a nice fella,

            But I really like Montella.

            How ‘bout you?  How ‘bout you?

            Let’s take a break from rhymes for a while and switch to one of my major unpoetic efforts.  I think it’s pretty much self-explanatory, so let me present to you what I call the OFFICIAL POST-CHRISTMAS FORM LETTER

            The Mullens of Vicenza, Italy, have long disdained the graceless American

tradition of writing form letters to send their annual Yuletide greetings to family, friends,colleagues, acquaintances, and passersby.  It occurred to us, however, that the medium is ideally suited to graceless acknowledgement of Christmas gifts we’ve received from some of those same people, and that one such letter can be used for several years.  To that purpose we request that you maintain this letter in your files for at least five years, annually reviewing and updating it as to the specific gifts you’ve sent and your relationship to us (e.g., friendship changed to occupancy, name change, sex change, etc.).  If, during that time, you decide you no longer wish to send us Christmas gifts, please inform us of that decision, so we can update our files and delete your name from our Panettone list.  You may still want to maintain this letter as a way of cheating on your income tax or something.

Our records, carelessly compiled from the remains of wrapping paper and gift tags still strewn on our living room floor, indicate that you contributed (circle one) significantly/marginally/haphazardly/mistakenly to our celebration of Yuletide greed.  We were delighted/distressed/bored/mystified by your thoughtful/random/ careless/erroneous selection and have found the perfect place for it in/on/over/under our living room/dining room/kitchen/bathroom/bedroom/fireplace/attic/garage /dog/cat/gerbil/t-shirt/blue jeans/socks/underwear/(name of body part).

Many thanks, then, for the beautiful/ugly/bland/nondescript gifts) identified below:

Porcelain Coffee Cups                        Broken Ceramic Dish

Boxes of Tea                                       Tangerine Peels

Christmas Towels                                Santa Claus Toilet Seat Cover

Bird Feeder                                         Pigeon Poop Scooper

Angel                                                   Glow-in-the-Dark Rosary

Petrified Wood                                    Frightened Stone

Night Light                                          4,000-Watt Spotlight

Retirement T-Shirt                              Disposable Underwear

Opera Cards                                        Waycross, GA Postcards

Linen Towel                                         Used Paper Napkins

“Merry Christmas” Sign                     “Happy Groundhog’s Day” FAX

Panorama Puzzle                                Puzzling Panorama

Medieval Woman Calendar               Girlie Pictures

            Christmas Music CD                           Tissue Paper & Comb

Microwave Dishes                              Year’s Supply of Paper Plates

Panettone                                            Ton of Pane

Loaf of Stollen                                     Stolen Loafers 

10 Drummers Drumming                   9 Lords-A-Leaping

8 Poopers Scooping                             7 Scoopers Pooping

6 Beepers Peeping                              5 Bathtub Rings

4 Calling Cards                                                3 Answering Machine Messages

2 E-Mail Letters                                  A Participle from a Noun Dangling

If our records are incorrect and you did not send us any of the above Christmas gifts (or any gifts at all), the error is probably attributable to our penchant for re-using wrapping paper from previous Christmases for the gifts we give ourselves.  Then, too, it could be the fact that many of our contributors are doctors whose handwriting is impossible to read; it certainly looked like (your name here).

If we failed to thank you for your gifts from previous Christmases, we assume that’s why you didn’t send any this year.  If you’ve never sent us any Christmas gifts, we understand; but, now that you have this letter in your files, you might want to think about contributing in future Yuletides and using it as a tax write-off.  If you’re a doctor, read this twice and call me in the morning. Thank you again for remembering/forgetting/ignoring us during this past holiday season, whether that was by way of gift, card, Christmas Form Letter or all (or none) of the above.  We’d also like to correct some errors which appeared in the Unofficial Pre-Christmas Form Letter mistakenly mailed to some of you by a computer which apparently had topped too many laps:  1) Marty is selling (not “soiling”) leather;  2) Patrick is playing the French Horn (not “playing with the horny French”);  3) Barbara did sit down (once) last year; 4) Mike will soon be retired  (not “retarded”).

                                                                        Sincerely/Facetiously/Regretfully Yours,

                                                                        Mike/Barbara/Patrick/Marty

                                                                        All/Most/Some of the Above

Well, that wore me out.  I need some more rhymes to get me relaxed again.  Not sure I need to explain this one; it sort of defies explanation.  Just something that popped into my mind one day.

Happy Holly Hasenpfeffer

Had to go to school.

Unhappily, poor Holly didn’t know that rule.

            So Happy Holly Hasenpfeffer

            Stayed home and played the fool.

            Jolly Jimbo Uhlenhockey

            Liked to pick his nose.

            Jolly Jimbo also liked to pick between his toes.

            Where Jolly Jimbo put that stuff

            Nobody really knows.

            Pretty Patty Branamockey

            Had very curly hair.

            But Pretty Patty told us she that didn’t really care.

            So, Pretty Patty cut it off

            And now she’s bare up there.

            Messy Michael Mullenhoofer

            Messed around with mice.

            How Messy Michael messed with them wasn’t very nice.

Messy Michael mashed their heads

And put their brains on ice.

Bubbly Babette Koelblefoos

Just lies in bed and snores.

Bubbly Babette snores so loud we have to close the doors.

We hope Bubbly Babette wakes up soon

And goes shopping at the stores.

I call this next one the “Shine on Rhyme” because it’s about a lamp shining on my uncontrollable rhyming. 

We put a new lamp near my desk

To brighten my world as I write.

I hope it does not cause a mess

Or ruin my 20-20 hindsight.

The lamp is certainly very bright,

Like being real close to the sun.

I might catch fire when I try to write,

But, hey, that could be fun.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

I’ll turn this lamp off pretty soon

Or it’ll get too damn hot.

And the heat could cause me to swoon

Or – Who knows? – maybe not.

My head is just too full of rhymes,       

As you’ve probably gathered by now.

I think it’s just a sign of the times.

I’d stop, but I don’t know how.

That new lamp’s just gonna shine

On rhythmicky drivel like this.

‘Til we end this rhyming time of mine

With a simple goodbye kiss.

Unfortunately (for you), the rhyming does not stop there.  Here’s another one that was inspired by an actual incident of “Creepy- Crawly Creatures” in our bathroom one night recently.

A creepy-crawly creature crawled across the floor

While I was in the bathroom late last night.

            A many-legged, hairy beast crawled under the door

            And left me at the toilet full of fright.

                       

            I don’t like creepy-crawly things crawling in my house.

            It’s dumb, I know, but I’m afraid they’ll bite.

            Neither centipede nor cockroach and surely not a mouse;

            If they show up, I’m quickly in full flight.

            I tried to catch and kill the beast that frightened me last night,

            But it creep-crawled into a dark place.

            It’s still there – I know it is – just hiding out of sight,

            Just waiting to jump out onto my face.

            So, I’m thinking about leaving here and living somewhere new,

            Some place where creepy creatures never crawl.

            The problem is such places are so relatively few.

            In fact, there may be no such place at all.

            Guess I’ll just learn to live with them crawling in my way

            Or try to keep them mostly out of sight.

            I’ll only make my bathroom trips in the middle of the day

            And never go to wee-wee late at night.

If you were hoping for a respite from this rhyming mania of mine, you’ll have to wait another page or two.  Then, that terrible weight will be off your shoulders, as in this rhyme I call “Weight Loss”.

I lost another pound today.

I lost a little weight.

Yesterday:  one-ninety-nine

Today:  one-ninety-eight

If I keep losing pounds like this

I’ll be slim in nothing-flat.

And I’m sure that I’ll be happy

After losing all that fat.

I’d lose the weight much faster

If I’d work-out at the gym.

It’d only take me half the time

To get looking slim and trim.

But working-out is work, you know,

And that makes me hesitate.

I retired from work many years ago

And began to hibernate.

I sleep all day and eat all night

And that’s pretty much my life.

Occasionally, I sit down to tea

And cookies with my wife.

So, how the hell, I’m sure you ask,

Have I managed to lose weight?

I guess it’s time to tell the truth:

I sort of prevaricate.

And here it is: the final rhyme (at least until the next one).  Fittingly, I think, this rhyme is about “My Computer” (but I don’t know why I think that’s fitting).

I got a computer today, oh boy!

I got a computer today.

Something new with which I can play, oh boy!

I got a computer today.

You’ll see my in cyberspace real soon, oh yes!

You’ll see me in cyberspace soon.

I’ll feel like I’m into the human race

When you see me in cyberspace.

I’ll put all my stuff on Facebook, oh yeah!

I’ll put all my stuff on Facebook.

And then everyone gets a look, oh yeah,

At what faces are in my book.

And Barbara’s photos can go there, too.

Yes, Barbara’s photos, too.

And some of them there will be of you,

Some photos of me and you.

Double-u, double-u, and double-u

And maybe a dot-com or two.

That’s W, W, and W,

I’m part of the Internet zoo.

As I said, that was my final rhyme “until the next one.”  And here’s the…uh…next one.

 A BLOGGER NAMED ROJO GOT LOST

IN THAT TERRIBLE BLOGOSPHERE FROST.

HE WAS THERE FOR A WEEK

WITH THE MANIC AND MEEK

AND TWO GUYS IN SHIRTS FROM LACOSTE.

WHEN ROJO EMERGED FROM THE SPHERE

HE ASKED THAT WE LEND HIM AN EAR,

SO HE COULD RETELL

‘BOUT THE BLOGGER FROM HELL

WHO RAN OFF WITH HIS ADIDAS GEAR.

            WE LISTENED, BUT DID NOT BELIEVE.

            WE THOUGHT ROJO WOULD TRY TO DECEIVE,

            LIKE THE TRUE CELLAR DWELLERS –

            THOSE CYBERSPACE SELLERS –

            WHO INSTRUCTED HIM NOT TO RECEIVE.

            WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN, ANYWAY?

            I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU SAY.

            ARE YOU TALKIN’ TO ME?

            OR IS HE TALKIN’ TO SHE?

            OR ARE THEY JUST BLABBING AWAY.

            YA’LL TALKIN’ SOME TRASH NOW, YA HEAR?

            AND IT’S GETTIN’ SO I CANNOT HEAR

            ANYTHING THAT YOU SAY

            FROM THE START OF THE DAY

            TO THE END OF IT WAY OVER HERE.

            LET’S FORGET ‘BOUT THIS CYBERSPACE CRAP.

            WE KNOW IT’S A BLOGOSPHERE TRAP.

            LET’S COOL DOWN TO THE MAX

            AND TRY TO RELAX

            BY HAVING OURSELVES A GOOD NAP.

            And I know you were hoping that was going to be the last of this stuff, but I just have this one more “next one”.

            I FINISHED OFF THE MEAT LOAF.

            NOW, I GOT MY EYES ON PIE.

            I NEED TO FATTEN UP MYSELF

            AND BE READY WHEN I DIE.

            ‘CAUSE THEY DON’T HAVE A FRIGIDAIRE

            WITHIN THE AFTERLIFE.

            AND NO ONE THERE TO COOK FOR ME,

            AT LEAST NOT LIKE MY WIFE.

            THAT ICE CREAM OVER THERE LOOKS GOOD.

            THINK I’LL EAT IT JUST FOR FUN.

            PERHAPS I’LL HAVE IT IN A CONE

            ‘CAUSE I JUST MIGHT HAVE TO RUN.

            IS THAT A BOWL OF CARAMEL CORN

            RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES?

            I THINK I’M SOMETIMES SEEING THINGS,

            SOME GOODIES IN DISGUISE.

            GUESS  I’LL CONTINUE  EATING NOW.

            NOTHING ELSE THAT I CAN DO.

            A BOWL OF POPCORN SOUNDS REAL GOOD

            AND MAYBE SOME COOKIES, TOO.

            And that, indeed is the last of the “Random Rhymes and Other Stuff” (the post-Christmas letter being the “other stuff”).  In fact, that’s probably the last thing I’ll put on Rojo’s Blog (until the next one?).  Time to take a vacation from this stuff.  Hope you enjoyed some of it.  Thanks for taking the time to read it.