REALLY AWFULLY RHYMING JOURNAL

 

The pool I have to trim; the lawn I have to clean the filter for. Note the trampoline has offspring. You spring off the big one and there’s a little one to spring onto.

“I’m buzzy, buzzy, buzzy!” said the bee;

Said I, “But not a bit as much as me!”

“That’s bad grammar!” said the fly,

“For you should have said, ‘As I’!”

Flies are an awful pest, you will agree.

 

There are a dreadful lot of flies around:

They seem to cover every bit of ground;

And for every one I swat,

Simply swarms another lot –

Ignore them, they don’t go away, I’ve found.

 

I’m fixing things, and cleaning things, and stuff,

The days aren’t made with time in them, enough;

And then also, in between,

I still have the edit scene;

No wonder that I’m getting in a huff!

 

A lawn to clean; a pool I have to mow,

I’d hunt for things, except I do not know,

In which half-buried box

I have even packed my socks –

No doubt they are, a heap of stuff, below!

 

We’ve simply loads and loads of stuff to sell,

But selling isn’t something I do well,

Though to throw or give away

Makes me yell, “Och! No way! Nay!”

I’ve Scots in me, as you can doubtless tell.

 

Some time, I dream, again will come the day

When I’ve a chance to have a bit of play

On blogs, and music, too,

And a spot of writing do,

But these constant chores refuse to go away!

© Colonialist January 2015 (WordPress)