The happy hippy penguins,
Drank there killer stout.
And at happy hippy times,
They would kick the walrus out.

The hills all swam in Greganog,
The town of swimming mountains.
But the mounds of earth in early days,
Could only swim in fountains.

Under half and over half,
And to the right extreme.
Sat the grumpy ‘Man of East’
Whose compass was obscene.

Leafy little larks,
Like losing little lorry.
Maybe man might make,
Larks losing lorries sorry.

The next day is the text day,
When letters sing their tune.
So grammar eagles fly away,
And punctuate the moon!

A mutiny in fizzy pop,
Is bursting to begin.
So when you drink be careful of,
The bubbles from within.

If you can’t afford a car,
And want to get from A – B.
You really don’t need much,
To buy a dictionary.

The soft furnishing devourer,
Feeds mainly on paper paste.
His motto is always to never:
‘Let a taste of the paste go to waste’.

Loving life is understated,
And living life takes time.
So why not waste a bit like me,
By saying this in rhyme?