I am Y.P.R.'s Boring Logo
The Journal of Literary Satire | Hastilly Written & Sloppilly Edited

RSD | RSS I | RSS II | Atøm | Spanish

Support Submit
From the Y.P.aRchives Fun, Fickle Fiction (for Free!) Fact, Opinion, Essay, & Review Spectacular Features, Calendrical Happenings, Media Gadflies Poetry & Lyric Advice, How To, & Self-Help Listicles Semi-Frequent Columns Letter from the Editors Disquieting Modern Trends Interviews Interviews with Interviewers One-Question Interviews The Book Club Media Gadflies Calendrical Happenings Roasts Correspondence (Letters To and Letters From) Letters from Y.P.R. Letters to Y.P.R. Birthday Cards to Celebrities Pop Stars in Hotel Rooms Shreek of the Week of the Day Polish Facts: An Antidote to the Polish Joke The Y.P.aRt Gallery Illustrious Illustration Photography Photomontage Graphic Design Logo Gallery What's Up with That? Fuit Salad Nick's Guff Vermont Girl The M_methicist Daily Garfield Digest New & Noteworthy Contributors' Notes Et Cetera, Et Cetera, Et Cetera The Y.P.aRchives
Commons License
This journal is licensed under a Creative Commons License and powered by Movable Typo 4.01.
Y.P.R. & Co.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Poetry & Lyric
Mother Goose Talks ... Things

Jeremy Gorman


Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.
Jack jump over the candlestick.
No, OVER, Jack, it’s— Oh my soul,
your pantleg! Jack, stop, drop, and roll!

There, good … Wait, don’t roll THAT way, Jack!
The fireplace! No, Jack, stop— Alack!
Quick, someone douse him! … Here comes Gene,
Thank God … Gene, wait! That’s kerosene!

Oh no! … No, Jack, don’t run, you’ll fan
The flames! Jack, where are you going, man?
Hey, where’s he headed? For the pool?
Jack, no! We drained it! Stop, you fool—

OH! … MAN, that must have hurt a bunch.
Did you guys hear that wicked crunch?
Hey Jack! Yo! Dude, you still alive?
Jack, next time, man, just jump. Don’t dive.

Now ROLL… O.K., fire’s out. Phew. Good.
Well, boys, I think you’ve understood
Why rites of this fraternity
Must all be done in secrecy.

If people saw what happened here,
Could we do this again next year?
So: None shall speak, or you’ll be hexed.
Hey, Jack, you’re in. O.K., who’s next?


Boys and girls, come out to play.
The moon doth shine as bright as day.
Hey wait a sec, that’s not the moon.
The nuclear plant has gone kaboom!

Run, run, young children! Save your necks!
It’s not too late to flee! Oh heck,
As if. You kids are goners. Might
As well enjoy the pretty light

Before it’s over all too soon.
How often’s midnight look like noon?
And wow, check out that melting power.
You’ll be pudding in half an hour.

This doesn’t happen every year.
You’re witnesses to hist’ry here.
Yes, someday you’ll look back at when—
Oh yeah. You kids won’t last ’til then.

Well hey, since now you’ve bit the dust,
You needn’t save your college trust.
Can’t spend it either, yes, that’s true,
But—Can’t have cake and eat it too.

So don’t cry just ’cause microwaves
Have sent you to an early grave.
I think they’ve helped your health, you know?
No, look. You have a certain glow.

There, see? Why, every mushroom cloud
With silver lining is endowed.
Well, catch the rays before they’re past.
Bye, boys and girls. It’s been a blast.


Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold.
Peas porridge in the pot, nine days old.

Some like it hot, some like it cold.
Some like it in the pot, nine days old.

That’s really gross. Nine days old.
You like a stomach ache, you like mold.

After a day, MAN, was it rank.
Three days in the pot, whole room stank.

Nine whole days? Are you cracked?
I’m quite surprised that you’ve not yet yakked.

Like Uncle Don. He had some porridge
That we had left for two days in storage.

Heaved up in green! Grey, orange, teal!
But, never mind, it’s time for YOUR meal.

So, scarf away. Eat ’fore it’s cold.
Or would you wait ’til it’s ten days old?

Jeremy Gorman is an unrepentant humorous rhyme writer. He has contributed in this capacity to Clever Magazine, Dig Your Roots, and the Notable Acts Theatre Festival.