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

I felt down in the dumps,
as I am quite plump.
From eating to many plums.
So it made me want to jump.
Making me feel more glum,
as I tried to do my sums.
On my much weight I had to lose,
as I sang the blues.
Making me snooze as I confuse,
drinking booze on the cruise.
And to amuse others with all my strange news.

I heard a thing
Which made me sing
“you’ve won some dosh”
I am now quite posh
I still sing my song
In my gold plated bath , is that wrong!

I try to remember what Harvey Schmidt wrote,
While planting a radish in bean-covered coat.
His metaphors go round in my head,
While Flaming Agnes sulks in her bed.
Soon it will rain--I do hope it will.
It's 110 in the shade. It may kill
The crops. If it rains all through the day,
The folks in Our Town will be happy and gay.

In the hot weather, I always wear my black leather.
That are covered with feathers and tethers.
That I wear when I gather bunches of heather,
in the garden for my family when we have a get-together.

I don't know how it happened, no, I do not know at all,
But little tiny spacemen now are pouring from the wall.

Oh to have someone on a journey
Never look back or say goodbye
Feel the ache and know your hurting
Wake in empty bed and start to cry

An airy fairy got merry drinking sherry,
on the ferry to Derry to see her friend Carrie.
Carrie worked at the dairy on the prairie,
where it got very scary when she became very hairy.
So the airy fairy cast a hair removing spell,
as she hit one of the cow's bells out on the dell.
But all it did was make Carrie yell,
as she started to smell jello that's a funny shade of yellow.
Making her feel mellow about learning to play the cello.
A cellist fellow called Mondello suddenly appeared to teach her to play,
as she sat on the hay that began to sway.
It made her day, so they all began to pray,
that their weight wil stay down when they attend the buffet.

There is a bug called Doug,
who lives in a rug.
Drinks pints of ale,
that makes him wail.
Whenever he listens to the whales,
singing off the cost of Wales.
According to Doug,
the whales have a great voice.
As they rejoice at getting a new rolls-royce.
Given to them by Joyce along with hoists.

Love has lost its dove
Sun baked eagle ends in church with pray
Zoologist no longer like animals
There’s not a lot more you can say

Come with me on an ocean trip
To the island of Urabu.
The animals there are cool and hip,
Though not as cool as you.

Cool is nice when around is warm
As warm, is nice when all is cool
Yet wearing shades when alls not warm
You tend to look a fool

Who knows what the wise
Can see through their own eyes
Could a fool recognise
Sunglasses are no disguise
Too dark to even realise
His kegs are open at the flies.

litt4l boy blu



littel boy blu
come blo yor horn
the sheeps in the medow
the cows in the corn
an i wish that
i'd never been born
with silvry bels
an cockerel shells
and pretty french maids in a rowe
i nowe a lot of things now
but i dont nowe
wot i don't nowe
an it greaves me so
that i don't
even no
wot i dont nowe
hey ho hey hoe hey hey jolly hoe
just look
at this littel book
and just one look
was all it took
and i fell in love
hed over heals in love
with amy
an once in lov with amy
always in love with amy
my pa
he had a car
called amy
and it was his
and AMY was the number plate
and he was allways late
but he was offenon a date
with our mum
they was a romantic two
partof the romantic few
so
littel boy glum
come bange yor drum
my brothers in jail
and im on the run

Some errant suns were passing our way.
The gravity fields got them under our sway.
It's painful sometimes to look at the sky.
With up to three suns, you get little shuteye.

What's leaking out from the fairway.
It looks like one of the local tearaways.
Crawling and sprawling and name calling.
Shouting out that its time for tea for the fleas.
That fly into the breeze as they tease.

Who's sitting pretty at the meeting,
reading poems by Keating.
Who's trying to be witty,
by pretending to be Walter Mitty.
And striving to be gritty by being bitty.
Everyone knows it's those fleas who like to tease,
sneezing and squeezing their peapods and lumps of cheese.

And the fleas are always in disguise,
dressed as foreign spies.
As they look into the sky for their prize.
Dreaming of French fries with their pies.
Stuffed with Chives by Clive,
as he dives into his C5.

Who's skipping and flipping down the streets of the town,
wearing their dressing gown.
Frowning at those who wear brown,
along with jugglers and clowns.
Everyone knows it's those fleas with their great expertise,
for talking in threes when they order blue cheese.

I'm rather touched by Sinclair, Clive
His unspoken beard and his little C5.
You remind me of their absurdity
And make them come alive for me

The great disastrous novel is what I plan to write,
A tale of dark foreboding. with humor dark as night.
I'll have six antiheroes, and seventeen subplots,
And all will be left dangling, 'cause I can't tie up knots.

Well I'm glad you got that out
'cus I was never much of a scout
Right over left and left over right
And do pull up your clove hitch tight
You could graduate to a sheepshank knot
For that you'll practice quite a lot
Remember if your mind starts to boggle
Never ever overtighten your woggle.

Sir Clive Sinclair, a man destined to go far,
in his new invention of the electric car.
Small it was and very mobile,
but it could not be sold nationally let alone go global.
People remember his gentleness and his flare,
even with a little dare.
A Scotsman that no-one could compare,
that red haired millionaire.

Thanks Jabs

One, two, three O'Leary,
Four, five, six O'Leary,
Seven, eight, nine O'Leary,
ten O'Leary drop the ball.
Then go and crawl to the wall,
and scrawl about Maul's market stall.
Then give the ball to Homer the parrot,
and make him dance the foxtrot.
Giving him carrots as his reward.
His one and only award, will be that he'll always be bored.
When he eats , he always says ,
which makes him glow when joins his crew;
as they shout whoa, whenever they go on a go-slow..
Then go to Joe's after work to have a ale or two,
with their new work colleague, the all singing and dancing kangaroo.