“Seven down, “Fizzy Drink” eight letters”
I said to my fellow
traveller’s arrayed
They looked at me
blankly, then one said
“If it was seven up,
it would be lemonade”
“Seven down, “Fizzy Drink” eight letters”
I said to my fellow
traveller’s arrayed
They looked at me
blankly, then one said
“If it was seven up,
it would be lemonade”
An accident in the kitchen
When the condiments
ignited
Blew mixed herbs in my
eyes
And left me
Parsley-sighted
When asked what he did for a living
He replied furtively
“I’m a spy”
When told he was
dressed as a farmer
He added “I’m a
shepherd Spy”
I thought he was shot in the forest
But I was wrong, and
the reason
Was a simple
misunderstanding
He was shot in the Lumbar
region
Sister Agatha at the convent
Was somnambulistic
The sleep walking nun
Was called a Roaming Catholic
Thursday's child
Has far to go,
(Well I hope they’re not travelling on Southern Rail)
Are you wearing an apron?
It’s very pretty and
frilly
It’s not very big
though
Just enough to cover
your Willy