You can’t get married on an isle
unless prepared to add an aisle –
you merely add an ‘a,’ my chil.’
He hadn't travell’d far, had Ike,
until I bought the boy a bike.
Said Dwight, “Add ‘b’...or else I hike.”
Cried Huck, “Let’s steal ourselves a
raft –
unless we spot some larger craft.”
“But we ain’t got no ‘c,’ Jim laugh’d.
For forty days, down came the rain.
My first floor flooded. “Where’s the
drain…?
I need a ‘d’: that much seems plain.”
My collie Shep’s renamed ‘Bo Peep’
and, much like Bo, misplaces sheep.
Shep gets an ‘e’: I get my sleep.
My Uncle Luke dislikes the lute.
“I hate to pluck. I’d rather toot.”
Luke gets an ‘f.’ (Luke loves his flute.)
In Mexico I met a gringo.
“Lose the ‘g,’ I chirp and…bingo!
Up there jumps a Beatle (Ringo).
Harold, once, had all his hair.
Above his head now’s nowt but air
The ‘h’ that was…? No longer there.
Twin imps attack’d my Aunt Louise.
I poked their ‘i’s out, if you please.
Now we’re in tow to two MPs.
The ‘J’ from Ludwig’s Ode to Joy…?
Gone missing. Perp…? That Bernstein boy.
Len’s publishing his Ode to “Oy!.”
When Sigmund was a little kid
his ‘k’ Sig’s younger siblings hid.
Remaining…? One malicious id.
On hearing The Gospel According to Luke
had abandon’d its ‘L,’ I lacunae rebuke:
No, I’ll not heed The Word for Accordeen
‘n’ Uke.
Dad’s lost his brush. Dad’s lost his
comb.
Mom’s lost her ‘M.’ Mom’s left with
“Om.”
(I guess that’s why Daddy’s no longer at
home.)
Subtraction’s a form of addition, I’ve
heard.
Then is “’none’ minus ‘n’ equals ‘one’” not
absurd…?
Yes, if ‘minus’ means ‘plus’…or each
number’s a word.
What’s the girth of his liver…? No
greater than so.
But, with aid of a spoon, he’s ingested
an ‘O,’
thus creating the Oliver Hardy we know.
Bitter, mild; ginger, brown: all are
versions of ale.
For a fifth variation (my fav’rite) try
pale.
(Adding ‘p’ to my ale makes it pale –
without fail.)
In Scotland, a quagmire is often called
quaw.
If it loses its ‘q,’ by linguistical law
UAW members emerge, then withdraw.
Sinbad takes to the sea aboard Elsie,
her udder
so sorely distended, she steers, like a
rudder
when Sinbad adds ‘r,’ (Plus, that cow churns
his butter.)
Oh, how I love to go up in a swing!
“I shall fly higher still,” I think, “when
I’ve a wing.”
(Dropping ‘s’…? ‘Tis no guess it’s a
lib’rating thing.)
How our nation’s infected with haters
we’ve seen.
Now some linguist has added a ‘t’ in
between.
And the hatters resulting…? Quite mad. (No
less mean.)
There’s a “Man overboard,” cries the
mate (though there’s not).
It’s young Pip, just turned ten, and he
can’t swim a jot.
Toss that poor boy a ‘u’! He lacks “’buoy’ancy,”
what?
Mr. Ness leads the vice squad. His
methods are bold.
Al Capone swipes his ‘v.’ (Nitti did it,
we’re told.)
Now Ness works in the ice squad. (He likes
soda cold.)
The Fool Killer’s comin.’ I take to my
heels.
I’d die not – although I don’t know how that
feels.
Find a ‘w.’ Fleeing’s much faster on
wheels.
Rebellious Boxers…? Just Boers spelt
with ‘x’s.
I’ve battl’d with Boxers and Boers -- of both sexes.
(I beat both a Boer and a Boxer in Texas.)
Unto the fray…? I defer: ain’t no way!
I’m a lover. My fighting’s for some
other day.
Drop that ‘y’! Fra and I shall ex ville steal away.
Booin’…? Nowt doin.’ That stuff’s just
not me.
Negativity…? Nossir! Just give me a ‘z,’
which I’ll ad to my boo. (Bozo’s
raspberry-free.)
Chorus line chorines – that T&A crew
–
simply hand in their ampersand when they
get through.
Then it’s “ta” each attests (which is
short for ‘adieu’).
 |
Eggcentric Caviar:
Roes By Several Other Names |
