Ron Splatkinburger's Slightly Daft Book of Poetry

Ron Splatkinburger's Thought Provoking Verse

Is It Built Around Here?

There's a haunted house that was built by a loony

And kids who were wicked

And came from the moon.

Each had a head like a slug-damaged pumpkin,

A nose like a cabbage

And a tongue like a spoon.

They flew down to Earth on a giant cucumber,

In tea-towel space-suits

And goldfish bowl hats.

Their eyes were potatoes still fresh with manure,

Their lettuce-leaf ears

Had been nibbled by bats.

To the moon they'd been sent from the planet Botanic

For refusing to work

And not digging the soil.

Lazy and careless and anti-organic,

Polluting with chemical,

Weed-killer's spoil.

Inspired by their leader, one Mr. Pollution,

They came to the moon

With it's meadows and air.

With thoughtless abandon they sprayed and they poisoned,

The atmosphere wasted,

The landscape laid bare.

And when all was gone, no air and no breathing,

On the cucumber ship

They set off in fear.

Have a good look around for their sad haunted house,

Do you know where it is?

Is it built around here?

The Other Half

“There's a slug in my tea”

Said Cornelius Lee

“Don't be daft” said Suhail

“It's a homeless snail”

“Then where is it's shell?”

Said Penelope Bell.

“I don't know,” said Suhail,

“Let us follow the trail.”

Down the side of the cup,

Trail down, trail up,

Over table and tin

‘Till it came to the bin.

Penelope's wail

At the end of the trail

Was the worst that I've known,

A most pitiful groan.

For her empty crisp packet

Was now the proud jacket

For a trophy from hell:

Just half a snail shell.

The Question of Sensible Eating

A banana is a very strange fruit,

If you stick one up your nose

You can pretend your playing the flute.

Apples - they bruise so easily,

That's why they're useless

For cricket, you see!

Oranges , now, are so very segmented,

But eating one in gloves

Can turn one demented

A pear would be better in the cold and the snow,

But the juice is so dribbley,

Who knows where it will go?

So -

Stick with your of chips:

Fewer vitamins,

But less drips.

Twinkle, twinkle, little dog

Twinkle, twinkle, little dog,

You smell worse than a stinking bog,

In your kennel like a slob,

A fithly, smelly, canine blob.

Twinkle, twinkle, little spud,

Your gravy is like sickly mud,

Its full of lumps and drowns the peas,

Oh little spud, do you have fleas?

Twinkle, twinkle, little cat,

I hear a car has squashed you flat,

If again you would be plump,

Why don't you borrow my bicycle pump?

Twinkle, twinkle, little lolly,

Eaten by a girl called Polly,

And even though her house is plush,

You'll still be seen out with a flush.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

I couldn't care less where you are,

You bore me daft, you're just not fun:

Goody-two-shoes of a sun!

Return to theTop