Nursery Rhyme Alternate History: Wee Willie Winkie

Guess what Mrs. Winkie's lad
young William's gone 'n' done! (So sad.)
In PJs -- and in nothing more! --
he's run, then stopp'd at ev'ry door:
"To bed, you lot!" he's order'd kids,

then set alight their books 'n' vids!
"You're not to watch the Johnny Carson."
(Wink's now nick'd: one charge of arson.)

Nursery Rhyme Backstory: Three Blind Mice

Macular degeneration;
unrelenting masturbation;
staring shade-free at the Sun...
Which brings blindness...? Any one!
Inane behavior, illness, vice
bring dark days, too, to barnyard mice.
But here's what really tips the scales:
bäuerins bob-bob-bobbin' tails.

Bravo Barry! An ABC

     (Anyone (you...?) can easily adapt these 

lines to pay homage to Reggie White, Jenn White 

or some other similarly surnamed celebrity of 

your choice.) 

There's the white call'd alabaster. 

There's the white of bleachéd bones.
There's the white of shirts with collars 

donn'd by fuddy-duddy Jones.

There's the white on cliffs down Dover way. 

There's whites of egrets' eggs.
There's the white of faint-hearts' feathers 

as that cad forgiveness begs.

There's the predatory great white. 

(Aren't white herons great as well...?)
There are white piano iv'ries. 

Jack White knows no parallel.

Seen on airplane flights: white knuckles. 

Heard in proxy fights: white lies.
And on Broadway, cows named Milky White. 

(In Sondheim's play, one dies.*)     

I have childhood friends who're non-white. 

Off-off-white's a fashion shade.
Pearl White's both a color and an actress. 

(One was bound to fade.)

There's the White Queen -- friend to Alice. 

White rice...? On the whole, it's white.
Ms. Snow White (she lived with seven dwarves). 

White trash enhances blight.

There's the ultra white of salesmen's smiles. 

Vanilla white's for cones,
while white wine is not. (How far we've got 

from cliffs and bleachéd bones!)

Cafe singers croon "White Xmas." 

Hey! Both you and I are white.
And Zin is white. But Barry White 

is black -- and outta sight!

     * In "Into the Woods"

Nursery Rhyme Backstory: Old Mother Hubbard

The Hubbard household used to be
the pillars of community.
Their juveniles then left the land

to seek their fortunes elsewhere -- and,

once others -- elders -- too, had gone,

who left was there to carry on...?

     The matriarch, with her Jack Russell,

'round th'ancestral pile would bustle.

Income, though, did not "come in."

When food ran out, the pair wax'd thin.

In larder left...? Not even bones.

Both starved. (Attend ye: curs 'n' crones!)

Trekkin' the System

On our way to 

Mercury

with Captain James T. 

Kirk, you re-
alize," We trek where 

no one's trekk'd before."

On our way to 

Venus,

we quiz Spock, "Hey! Just be-

tween us,

did you recollect to 

check the pod bay door...?

On our way to 

Saturn

we drop by Pan's* habi-

tat, earn-

ing a billion frequent 

flier miles en route.

     * One of Saturn's several moons

On our way to 

Uranus

with Troi, you order 

her 'n' us,

to power wash and 

press each pressure suit.

On our way to 

Mars,

while "Bones" unpacks his spec'men 

jars,

we hear his, "Dammit, I'm a 

doctor, not a bellboy."

On our way to 

Neptune,

though La Forge thinks you're in-

ept, un-

animous opinion 

(nearly) dubs you Hellboy.

On our way to 

Pluto,

should Montgom'ry Scott fall 

mute...? Oh,

yeah! Just beam us up but 

lose that Glasgow Burr! 

On our way to 

Jupiter

Uhura claims the 

croup put her

in sick bay all last 

week. The cause...? Obscure.

To Earth we 

now must go.

Jean-Luc Picard says, 

"Make it so!"

But we must not ignore the 

Moon as we fly by:

the Moon, whereon's the 

Monolith,

that kitsch from Kubrick's 

sci-fi myth.

(It's Space: we loathe the 

sci...but love the fi.)

Nursery Rhyme Alternate History: Little Miss Muffet

Arachnophobe...? Me...? Nonsense, this!
Though I accept how some may be.
I merely wished to save that miss
(the Muffet girl) from excess ghee.
     I'd seen her scarfing whey and curds,
as sat she on a grassy knoll.
Down I balloon'd and spoke these words:
"Please put aside your spoon and bowl!
     Though curds and whey be wholesome fare,
you need to green things eat each day."
"Don't bug me, bug! I couldn't care..."
said Muffet, "...less," and walk'd away.

Raspberry Screech

Raspberry Screech:
neither Pumpkin nor Peach,
it's ID-able whene'er you hear it.
     Raspberry Screech:
a bizarre form of speech --
but, oh, Jeez: that's no reason to fear it.

     Raspberry Screech: 

many use it to teach,

just as long as the MAGA mugs clear it.

     Raspberry Screech:

many use it to preach

fundamentalist-white-evangelical-right-

charismatic-supremacist spirit.

Nursery Rhyme Backstory: Jack and Jill

Seven daughters and a son
had Captain Basil Brassington.
His heir apparent Jack was named;
some seven sisters Jack proclaim'd.
     First, Sydney (short for 'Saint-Denys'),
then Signe (means 'new victory'),
then Sigrid and Simone, the twins 
(call'd 'Sig 'n' Simo' for their sins).
     Then Silvie and Sigourney (whom

you've seen on TV, I presume),

and, last (nor least) the baby, Jill,

who, with her brother, climb'd that hill.

Echoes of Becker & Fagen

     Alternate verses to Steely Dan's "Reelin' in the Years"

     Verse 1: 

You consume some green things ev'ry day but only those cann'd.

You insist you ♥ humanity but honor Ayn Rand.
You consider Bieber bracin'; you consider Borges bland.
The belles-lettres you label borin' I don't understand.

     Refrain:

          Are you reelin' in the years...

     Verse 2: 

To Jinping you cling; Zelensky you dismiss out-of-hand.

To Fritz Perls you diss (aloud!), preferrin' cloud-cuckoo-land.

To the torch you put those volumes right-wing fascists have bann'd.

The philosophies you favor I don't understand.

     Refrain:

          Are you reelin' in the years...

     Verse 3: 

Offer'd local brews, you choose to use a national brand.

Proffer'd Charleston Chews, your tried-'n'-true's a 100 Grand.

Going swimmin'...? You'll jam-pack the pool with silica sand.

How you manage your decisions I don't understand.

     Refrain:

          Are you reelin' in the years...

     Verse 4: 

You eschew the use of ampersands when typin' your 'and,'

use the dash -- although ellipses are the law of the land.

Caret symbols, curly brackets: won't you please take a stand...?

How you pick your punctuation I don't understand.

     Refrain:

          Are you reelin' in the years...

No Eggceptions

I love fried eggs, but only with sausages.
I love scrambled eggs only with bacon.
If I spot substitutions or patchwork solutions
come breakfast, you'll witness me shaken.

I love poached eggs, but only with scrapple.

I love boiled eggs, but only with ham.

I shall ne'er brook replacements nor, worse yet, defacements --

and eat no eggs plated with Spam.

In Crowd Insiders Flaunt Their Fetishes

Tweedle Dee, twin, looks to raising a din.

A priest of Shaolin books a Holiday Inn.

Marty, with Spin, wagers two bucks to win.

Gen'ral Mike Flynn rages: "Change for a fin...?"

Harlequin chokes on some crocodile skin.

Irving Berlin strokes his chinny-chin-chin.

Ho Chi Minh preys -- with a shit-eatin' grin.

Rin-tin-tin plays on Scott Cao's violin.

Hester Prynne nurses her tonic-less gin.

Sergey Brin curses: "I've shatter'd my shin." 

Lohengrin pauses one brief New York min. 

Twain's Huck Finn jaws, "Is that your cotton gin...?"

Laden, Osamma bin pays for our sins.

Wynn -- i.e., Keenan Wynn -- brays, "West Berlin!"

Ed Wynn pulls into Bonn's lush loony bin.

Anais Nin sins, using plush bowling pins.

Cardinal Sin knows no kith -- and few kin. 

Anthony Quinn blows one mean mandolin.

Calvet, Corinne buys a French mannequin.

Gunga Din lies on his Siamese twin.

Loretta Lynn's wrist's like her waist: wafer thin.

Howard Zinn's fists Howard's dubb'd 'Yang' and 'Yin.'

Tweedle Dum, twin, also raises a din.

(Some verses "fin" [sic] much as they begin.)