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

But young Albert Ross watching, in vain for a fish,
Swooped and swatted the rat with two whopping webbed feet
“For my friend scabby cat, you’ll make a nice dish,
For supper tonight, you will make a nice treat. “

The rat was sent tumbling by Albert Ross' feet,
But landed right next to a hole.
He dived in, not caring what creatures he'd meet,
And soon met a very large mole.

The mole looked uffish and wiffled its nose,
At being disturbed by a rat,
It scuffled and muttered in dubious prose,
"You look like a meal for a cat".

The rat replied, "Please, I beg on my knees,
There’s a cat out there waiting for lunch
With damned great white bird, which looks simply absurd,
But which packs one helluva punch".

This blasted bird and curmudgeonly cat,
This objectionable owl and ridiculous rat.
If these weren't enough to derange this poor soul,
Now they have dug up a myopic mole.
Perhaps next they'll throw in, just for a laugh,
A travelling, trembling, stiff necked giraffe!

Far, far away on the African veldt,
Was a trembling, stiff-necked giraffe.
She'd done pretty well with what destiny dealt,
Though her neck made it hard when she'd quaff.

She remembered a rat who had been very kind
By nursing her through the ague,
And now his shrill voice she could hear in her mind,
Saying, "Danger has found me. Adieu!"

The giraffe stood firm on the edge of a berm
And angrily said to the mole,
"The rat is my friend and now it’s your turn
You blind subterranean vole".

She stamped on the hill that the mole had just made,
And squashed the poor creature quite flat,
Took the skin to the hatter and the proudly displayed,
A mighty fine fresh moleskin hat.

The callous giraffe had a sadistic laugh,
Enough to shrivel your toesies.
The sad moleskin hat whispered,"Now who's the rat?"
While its children played ring round the rosies.

The aardvark and monkey relaxed on the beach,
Contemplating some very good draughts,
When a girt great sea bird with a cat on its back,
Swooped down and said mind the giraffe.

[I'm enjoying this tale quite completely, my friends.
It's quite an enjoyable story.
I hope that this marvelous tale never ends,
And all of us bask in its glory}

[May I suggest you excise entries such as this
Which contribute not to your story
And enter the rest - now, or possibly later,
To The Post, in all its glory.
Perhaps as a ballad to be published serially,
Rather than as a monster of poesy.
And best part of this solution -
Ask for further contributions]

I've collected the lot - you silly old clot,
And edited out all the worst.
The story now runs to some twenty-five pages,
And makes a helluva lavaat'try verrse.

Monstrous! But I'm sure The Post will go for it.


Jab

Glad that you see the joke - it is your thread.

Some fear the monster under the bed
But I fear the monster in my head
It doesn't matter if it's night or day
There's no control over when he comes to play
He doesn't play nice and doesn't play fair
Who or what he breaks, he doesn't care
As long as he gets his taste of pain

Blessed is the slob. He avoids his sure doom.
There's no monster under his bed, there isn't room .

The cat and the albatross thought long and hard
About monsters hiding ‘neath beds
They both then decide that ‘tis better reside
In the depth of the boat, near the heads.

Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.

[From Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love: W.H. Auden]

I sleep, I dream,
In wildest fancies roam,
'Cross fields, down lanes,
So very far from home.

Tired

Tried as I might, I could not sleep,
In darkness the daemons around me creep
Remorse, regrets and hopeless dreams
Ever regrets of the things not seen,
Do I have to fight in this heap.