from some unearthly planet.
And if you want to see these
sickly, unattractive creatures,
you'll find them working in your school;
they all got jobs as teachers.
Food Fight
by Amy Seal
When Mrs. McGrady, the lunchroom lady,
Walked away from the third-grade table,
Bejamin Brown, the classroom clown,
Launched some green beans right at Mable.
Mable gasped in surprised and wiped her eyes
And threw a milk carton back at Ben.
Before we knew it, we were all into it,
And the fabulous food fight began!
Johnny and Claire were just sitting there
When they both got hit by some bread,
So they partnered up and emptied a cup
Of juice right on Helen’s head.
Poor Geraldine could soon be seen
With mashed potatoes smashed to her dress,
While stringy spaghetti strewn about like confetti
Just added to the whole mess.
Sly little Davey splattered the gravy
As Tom chucked a whole bowl of custard.
Then Melinda Magog hurled her hot dog
And smeared us all with mustard.
As the food flew, the lunch-lady came into view,
And we knew she’d soon end our fun.
So with innocent faces we returned to our places
And our fabulous food fight was done.
It Can’t Be Time to Take a Bath
by A. Maria Plover
It can’t be time to take a bath.
I took one just last week.
I’m sure the spots you think are grime
are freckles on my cheek.
I’m just as clean as clean can be.
You won’t find any dirt.
I rubbed my mouth clean with my hands,
then wiped them on my shirt.
My feet were muddy yesterday,
but that’s no longer true.
I walked home barefoot in the rain,
so now they’re spotless, too.
There was some gunk behind my ears—
a funny shade of gray.
Don’t worry, though, ’cause it’s all gone.
The cat licked it away.
And so you see, there is no need
to point me toward the tub.
It’s just a waste of water.
I’ve got nothing left to scrub!
Monday's Child
Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living,
And a child that's born on the Sabbath day
Is blithe and bonny and good and gay.
Weather
Whether the weather be fine,
Or whether the weather be not,
Whether the weather be cold,
Or whether the weather be hot,
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather,
Whether we like it or not!
Charles and Mary Lamb
Though the house what busy joy,
Just because the infant boy
Hs a tiny tooth to show!
I have got a double row,
All as white and all as small;
Yet no one cares for mine at all.
He can say but half a word,
Yet that single sound's preferred
To all the words that I can say
In the longest summer day.
He cannot walk, yet if he put
With mimic motion out his foot,
As if he thought he were advancing,
It's prized more than my best dancing.
Girls and Boys Come Out to Play
Girls and boys, come out to play,
the moon doth shine as bright as day,
Leave your supper and leave your sleep,
And come with your playfellows into the street.
Come with a whoop or come with a call,
Come with a goodwill or not at all.
Up the ladder and down the wall,
A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
You find milk and I'll find flour,
And we'll have a pudding in half an hour
The Queen of Hearts
The Queen of Hearts,
She made some tarts,
All on a summer's day,
The Knave of Hearts,
He stole the tarts,
And took them clean away.
The King o Hearts
Called for the tarts
And beat the Knave full sore.
The Knave of Hearts
Brought back the tarts,
And vowed he'd steal no more.
The Daughter of the Farrier
The daughter of the farrier
Could find no one to marry her,
Because she said
She would not wed
A man who could not carry her.
The foolish girl was wrong enough,
And had to wait quite long enough;
For as she sat
She grew so fat
That nobody was strong enough.
Miss T.
Walter De La Mare
It's a very odd thing--
As odd as can be--
That whatever Miss T. eats
Turns into Miss T.;
Porridge and apples,
Mince, muffins and mutton,
Jam, junket, jumbles--
Not a rap, not a button
It matters; the moment
They're out of her plate,
Though shared by Miss Butcher
And sour Mr. Bate;
Tiny and cheerful, And neat as can be,
Whatever Miss T. eats
Turns into Miss T.
Eletelephony
Laura E. Richards
Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant--
No! no! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone--
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right.)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee--
I fear I'd better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)
The Purple Cow
Gelett Burgess
I never saw a purple cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow
I'd rather see than be one.
Granpa Dropped His Glasses
Leroy F. Jackson
Grandpa dropped his glasses once
In a pot of dye,
And when he put them on again
He saw a purple sky.
Purple fires were rising up
From a purple hill,
Men were grinding purple cider
at a purple mill.
Purple Adeline was playing
With a purple doll;
Little purple dragon flies
Were crawling up the wall.
And at the supper-table
He got crazy as a loon
From eating purple apple dumplings
With a purple spoon.
Mr. Nobody
I know a funny little man,
As quiet as a mouse,
Who does the mischief that is done
In everybody's house!
There's no one ever sees his face,
And yet we all agree
That every plate we break was cracked
By Mr. Nobody.
'Tis he who always tears our books,
Who leaves the door ajar,
He pulls the buttons from our shirts,
And scatters pins afar;
That squeaking door will always squeak,
For, prithee, don't you see,
We leave the oiling to be done
By Mr. Nobody.
He puts damp wood upon the fire,
That kettles cannot boil;
His are the feet that bring in mud,
And all the carpets soiled.
The papers always are mislaid,
Who had them last but he?
There's no one tosses them about
But Mr. Nobody.
The finger marks upon the door
By none of us are made;
We never leave the blinds unclosed,
To let the curtains fade.
The ink we never spill; the boots
that lying round you see
Are not our boots -- they all belong
To Mr. Nobody.
What Are Little Boys Made Of?
What are little boys made of?
What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails,
And that are little boys made of.
What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and all things nice,
And that are little girlds made of.
What are young men made of?
What are young men made of?
Sighs and leers, and crocodile tears,
And that are young men made of.
What are young women made of?
What are young women made of?
Ribbons and laces, and sweet pretty faces,
And that are young women made of.
To Check out more silly poems go to Giggle Poetry
Erin's Children Poetry Page
Fizzy Funny Fuzzy
