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

I heard that you had a rebuttal
Right now it's not sounding too subtle
so if you could say it
I'd sure LOVE to slay it
and then, I'd be off with my shuttle

I see that this thread has grown cold
I don't think it's gotten too old
What's killed it I fear
Is that some don't adhere
To the rhyme and the scan as it's told



Bassman

I know that this thread comes and goes
It's harder to write rhymes than prose
But for some of us here
The form has no peer
And so, we just have to compose

My brain has been addled with booze
and I'm destined, this battle to lose
I'll still do my best
at this difficult test
but I think that I may just confuse.

Confusion is our normal state
Especially when "over the eight"
But we should perservere
And keep posting here
Stop fighting the urge to create!

It pains me it's so close to Chrimbo,
I feel that I'm out on a limb. Oh!
I would much rather be,
Under a hot sun by sea,
And spending my time practising limbo!

In Oz where it's hot as Hades
Beaches are littered with near naked ladies
Men like Greek gods
Displaying their bods
And in nine months, a new crop of babies

In England we're stuck with cold beer
Cold fingers, cold toes and I fear
There's only one way we've got,
For us to get hot,
And nine months later it's the same result here...

We use any excuse at a pinch
Making babies is really a cinch
It's a shame as adults
We don't consider results
We continue with barely a flinch

You both make it sound as if wooing
is simply a case of pursuing
a fanciable sort
and then to resort
to fumbling and then to undoing.

The chances of getting a date
agreeing to go procreate
involves the old ruse
of plying with booze
and telling them that they are great.

As a researcher now with a kid,
Let me tell you they cost quite a quid!
Your social life goes.
(So does sleep I suppose)
Just keep that in mind (don't worry I did ).

Having said that I will say.
I love my boy more every day.
He's a cute litte tyke.
(Hey, what's not to like?)
It's just if you're not that prepared, you'll pay.

I think I'd be right to declare
there isn't a child out there
for who I am dad
for that I am glad
although I'm not sure - to be fair.

There once was a woman named Molly
Who inadvertantly sat on her brolly.
She sat on that spike
Several times in the like,
For she found the effect rather jolly!


There once was a lady named Ruth,
Who frequented bars in Deluth
Said her neighbors, she stank
Of the liquer she drank,
Gin Rum Vodka Whiskey Vermouth.

Back on the Booze are we now?
'stead of the juice of the cow
Fermented Yak's Milk
At that I would bilk
But a Baileys would just make me glow

Kids? For my sins, I've got four
And I don't sleep as much as before
It's too late to repent
Though my money's all spent
But I certainly ain't having more

I love all the children I've got,
But I must say there are not a lot;
It's more like a few,
But it is less than two,
I'll admit it! I haven't a tot!

A secret to you I'll confide
I like kids - baked, toasted or fried
But the ones I like most
Are plain ones on toast
With crunchy bits under their hide

Children in cake is a treat
But you need a good number. Don't cheat;
Go down the estate,
Round up seven or eight,
And make sure the top ones are sweet.

Eating Children is Sick it is true
Kids are much easier to chew
So grill one, Or roast some
Or chuck in a stew, son,
There'll be much less of a Hullabaloo

There's nothing I like less for lunch
Than roast kiddies, the kind that go "crunch"
But Huey and Louis
Are ever so chewy
In fact, they're the best of the bunch