h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Harry Potter went to Middle Earth
In search of the place of his birth.
He saw orcs and ents
And saw no difference,
Which caused Middle Earthians great mirth!

There isn't a lot to be said
For excessive respect for the dead.
They've told their own story,
Pacific or gory,
And left us to muddle ahead.

Zombies I do not respect.
They richly deserve my neglect.
If they won't stay dead,
I'll just go ahead,
Impaling them where they project.

Insignificant, but nonetheless sharp
With looks second-best to a carp
A likeable fellow
At home on the cello
But amazingly deft on the harp

A pianist once, it is said,
Decided to play for the dead:
"Death and the Maiden,"
"Christ's last words" by Haydn,
Until all his poor fingers bled.

My table was getting unstable
So I fixed it as well as I'm able.
The design was quite strong;
I'd assembled it wrong.
What a sad and embarrassing fable.

You can't do without a good table.
You might as well live in a stable.
To get one first-rate,
Step up to the plate.
Take on as much debt as you're able.

He goes out to the small patch of beans
In front of his house, where he gleans
A dozen or so,
And then he must go
Inside to get dirt off his jeans.

The ear is a bad place for gout.
You ask the doc, "What's this about?'
"Eat cherries," he'll say.
You can't hear him, no way,
So then he will just have to shout!

My ear joints are so far OK.
Without pain I can hear what you say.
Getting gout in the ear
Isn't something I fear,
But wax in the toe joints ... no way.

My life makes me stay on my toes.
I cannot relax, cannot doze.
A clown from Tibet
Left me very upset,
And since then I'm very verbose.

By nonsense I live and I die.
It's hard to find rhymes, but I try.
Some times I'm inane,
Or downright insane,
As in a straightjacket I lie.

My mind is full of strange things,
Some full of claws and some wings.
Each time that I scratch,
More weird things will hatch.
I can just get them tied down with strings.

Your love for me's appreciated.
I like being loved more than hated.
My sturdy physique
Makes some women weak.
My puns, though, are not tolerated.

I made coffee using a filter.
In those days I worked as realtor.
I used to consume
Too much, I presume.
The caffeine just pushed me off-kilter.

"Was your concert successful?" I shrugged.
"We were feted, applauded, and hugged,
But the thunderstorm hit
And we all had to split
To a basement, and finish unplugged."

A magician named Jonathan Strange
Took a potion he hoped would derange
His mind: then he'd see
The Land of Faerie,
With fairy magic, plus some change.

I was lonely and hadn't a chick.
My self-respect sank like a brick.
I went to the gypsy--
She's crazy and tipsy
But Love Potion Nine did the trick.

I'm glad the love potion was strong.
Your loneliness ran on too long.
Some music so fine,
A good vintage wine,
Voila! Wine, women, and song!

What conceivable reason exists
That these poets can't seem to resist,
Despite fervent requests,
Backed by bribes and bequests,
To abstain, refrain and desist


only kidding