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

Few truer words have been spoken.
Our world very soon may be broken.
Someday it may heal,
But for now it must keel
Over, from Bruges to Hoboken.

I'm afraid 'tis the way of the beast,
To gorge and get fat at the feast;
When the menu is cash,
They can bloat out their stash
To ensure that the rest get the least.

So the world's gone to heck in a basket
That's no reason to blow out a gasket
It's always been thus
In the end though, it's us
Each, in our turn, in a casket

The trick is, it appears to me,
To imagine the world fair and free
It's equally as true
And far more fun to do
Than to moan and bewail endlessly

The world has both evil and good
We'd make it all bliss if we could
I'd whiten the grey
If I had my way
As every last one of us should

But what of the pain, fear and sorrow
With countless more worries tomorrow
Do we all just deny
We can't hide if we try
But here is one scheme you can borrow

Point out what is good to your friends
Do your best to make all your amends
Give what you can spare
Treat everyone fair
And love all life hard 'fore it ends

The whole tapestry all unfurled
At once, looks all fuzzy and swirled
We're so very small
That we can't see it all
It's our focus that shows us our world

We might as well smile when we can
And bring happines to our fellow man
It's not just a test
So let's give it our best
Is that such a terrible plan?

The trouble is big corporations:
They don't have humane aspirations.
They serve us quite well
But they'll see us in hell
And they shouldn't be ruling the nations.

You'd think all that counts is the dough
Seems those bigwigs will never know
That you don't need much money
to be a happy bunny
And you can't take it with you when you go.

I'd take it with me if I could.
For now, I just want something good
To brighten my life,
And keep me from strife,
Before I compost in the wood.

Please no more rhymes on decomposing
Let's abandon such funereal composing
Write rhymes that bring joy,
Or at worst, just annoy
A change of tack is what I'm proposing

There once was a small furry bunny
Whose nature was happy and sunny
His smile was so broad
It made critics applaud
And his jokes were incredibly funny

That's better, Recumbentman by half
You succeeded in making me laugh
My spirits are raised
In other words, paraphrased
I think that we're on the right path

Poetry about bunnies? How RUDE!!!
I have never heard nothing so crude!!!
Please clean up this place
It's become a disgrace
They all hop about in the NUDE!!!!

....where the heck is the yikes button....

The yikes button fell off my pants.
The seamstress could tell at a glance
I was in great trouble.
She sewed on the double,
And now I'll vacation in France.

To France we all go - to Paree
Let's have a sightseeing spree
Tuileries, Notre Dame
Moulin Rouge, thank you ma'am
Bateau mouche, Sacré Coeur - Look at me!

I don't think I'd do well in France
If I'd happened to be there perchance
I'm dumb as a dingo
And don't know the lingo
They'd know I was lost at a glance

You can go to France and not have a care
For you will find out - once you are there
That plenty of folk
know how French is spoke
Why should you, too - they don't need a spare!

French grammar is tight as a gasket;
Their scorn is extreme, they don't mask it.
Say "Où est Nôtre-Dame?"
And they'll tut, frown and clam;
"Où se trouve" is the right way to ask it.

Also, they never answer any question unless they have been properly addressed: Bonjour madame (or monsieur), s'il vous plaît, ...

They literally don't understand the question "Où est Nôtre-Dame?"; you are asking them where has it (or perhaps she) gone to.

From France we'll approach sunny Spain,
Which has all that rain on its plain,
Acorn-eating pigs,
Some olives and figs,
And grammar that's hard to explain.

The lifespan allotted to men
By tradition is threescore and ten.
I have now been alive
Almost threescore and five;
These are years I will not see again.

Congratulations are in order I think!
Yoohoo! An excuse for a drink!
As they say in the song
May you live well and long,
But enjoy it while you're in the pink.

Folks are dropping like flies around here.
Relations of friends very near
The dead feel no pain
So it seems like the main
Thing is to comfort the living, my dear


Happy three-score and five when it arrives!


Mathematically, your odds will increase
If, when youthfull, you do not decease
Of life longer still
So, remember your pill
And don't sweat every brand new crease

Young babies can die from the flu
And car crashes take many too
The averaging takes
Account of mistakes
War, suicide, plague, sniffing glue

So if you should reach sixty-five
(A long time for a man to survive)
Without such mishaps
It follows, perhaps
You could be the last person alive

YB

A hundred years spent as a vegetarian
Makes one a healthy centenarian
And when such a man dies
The gardener cries -
"Oh great! Organic compost! Let's bury 'im"