There was an old man of Milano,
Who loudly yelped, “Help me out, pronto!
If not for this chair,
I’d be standing on air,
I must be tied down in Milano!”
There was a young lady whose jig,
Was roundly despised by the pig;
But loved by the cow,
Who wished to know how,
She came up with that marvelous jig.
There was an old lady of Trussville,
Whose hat was widely known as distrustful;
She never knew,
But it secretly grew,
Till she was known as the hat of Trussville.
The sun comes up and Kruq gets out of bed,
Bathes, breakfasts, clothes,
Picks out every hair that goes on her head.
Every morning ever the first is a fox tail,
Whether a swamp weed tuft
Or the clever, toothy one’s fluff,
It’s the first without fail.
Then she begins to choose –
Perhaps an illegal eagle plume
Or a couple from a peacock.
A handful of straw from a cobwebby old broom?
An always on the hour
Long hand of a clock?
Of course, she must have her flowers
For a bootfull bee filled bouquet of bangs.
Sometimes an old TV antenna hangs.
She has a fondness for eels,
Though more so for people’s squeals
When they realize that they’re real.
She’s been collecting for years
And is now at work on a beard,
So if you see something good
Please mail it here.
Kruq could write books on looks
And every one of them would begin and end with the lines:
“Fashion’s about your likes,
Don’t get fooled by your minds.”
Drawn by Sparkpuppy.
There was an old man of Arabia,
Gripped by musical mania;
Wherever he went,
Folks quickly sent,
Him jamming back to Arabia.
There was a young lady of Addis,
Whose hair brought on cases of madness;
It was so wild,
It quickly exiled,
Any sense to be found in Addis.
There was an old person of Yale,
Determined to turn to a snail;
He said, “I’ll soon ooze,
For I’ve paid my dues,
After years of study at Yale!”
In a building built of murk and mist
At the back of the nearest storm,
Lies are stacked hand over fist
With this a most exquisite twist –
If you check one out, the lie exists!
Take a thing from the Lie Brary
(A thing that’s no thing at all),
And you will find it very very
Real outside the Brary walls.
Truth must know some true defiance.
False sometimes needs our alliance.
Why deny a lie a chance?
Trees are the toes of buried giants,
Eyes are stars just catching flame.
Color’s sly but can be caught,
Butterflies and I cannot,
There’s no such thing as shame.
Well, this lie has been a thrill,
This lie that Lie Braries are real,
I think I’ll keep it checked out still.
There was an old person whose body,
Was built ramshackle and shoddy;
Say something funny,
He’d laugh up whole bunnies,
That dubious old person’s body.
There was a young lady whose job,
Was stretching the noses of snobs;
They called it high fashion,
‘Twas a painful passion,
But at least it gave her a job.
There was an old man of the East,
In charge of a marvelous feast;
He stewed himself well,
The people still tell,
Of that spicy old man of the East.
Let me give you a clue –
The only thing you’ve got wrong
Is if you think something’s wrong with you.
Scupper Sprigs got lost in a maze,
But she barely noticed, was completely unfazed.
Though she was astray for nine hazy days
When they found her she sighed
And they were amazed –
She’d written ten books,
A movie, three plays;
Invented a system of hooks
To keep clouds in displays;
Got married and had twenty-three lil ducks;
Even translated the language of Luck!
Scup has been found for thirty years now,
And daily tries to return to lost somehow.
It’s tough getting things done in the land of the busy,
A lot of running ’round nothing till everyone’s dizzy.
She’s not done a tenth of what she did then,
So if you want to get somewhere let lost suck you in.
Illustration by Marek Jansen whose books and other work can be found here.
Drawn by Kimbap.