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

Adieu to Agadoo, sung by our dear friend Hugh.
A member of the Borg who brewed slimely goo.
Chewed glue and screws that made them feel blue.
Grew their horns in compost at the local zoo.
And in the morning would collect the garden dew.
Whilst pretending to be cats that dined on stew.
Visited by Winnie the Pooh who became a member of the crew.
Got into their space ships and headed for Peru.
Where they made their fortune in chocolate shoes.

This is not by me - someone sent it to me - but it's rather nice!!

The service station trade was slow.
The owner sat around,
With sharpened knife and cedar stick.
Piled shavings on the ground.

No modern facilities had they,
The log across the rill Led to a shack,
marked His and Hers
That sat against the hill.

'Where is the ladies restroom, sir?'
The owner leaning back,
Said not a word but whittled on,
And nodded toward the shack.

With quickened step she entered there
But only stayed a minute,
Until she screamed,
Just like a snake Or spider might be in it.

With startled look and beet red face
She bounded through the door,
And headed quickly for the car.
Just like three gals before.

She tripped and fell -- got up,
and then in obvious disgust,
Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
And faded in the dust.

Of course we all desired to know
What made the gals all do
The things they did, and then we found
The whittling owner knew.

A speaking system he'd devised
To make the thing complete,
He tied a speaker on the wall
beneath the toilet seat.

He'd wait until the gals got set
and then the devilish guy,
would stop his whittling long enough,
to speak into the mike.

And as she sat,
a voice below struck terror, fright and fear
'Will you please use the other hole?
We're painting under here'*

I am a very unsual cat.
As I like to eat spiced rice.
Especially wirth organic lice.
And as a treat I have it with savoury mice.
Washed own with gin and a lemon slice.
These are my only two vices, gin and mice.
Somties I have gnats with my organic lice.
And twice a year, I have chinese giant stuffed rat.
Which I have with my other cat friends.
And after we eaten, we go out shopping to spend, spend, spend.

should have read:
Washed down with gin and a lemon slice.

I'm cross-posting this one:

Somewhere, on a remote mountain top,
Where there isn't so much as a mouse or bat,
Is a depot where very few trains will stop,
And it holds all the world's unwanted fat.

You lost sixty pounds? Well it just travelled here,
And patiently sat 'til the day
When, tired and hungry, toward gorging you veer,
And returns, 'round your middle to stay.

I like to chase after birds.
Especially if they are nerds.
And try to get them to fly.
By telling them I am a spy.
Making loud twittering noises.
And prancing around as I gently poise.
Then throwing toys at the boys.
As they were being totally absurd.
Ptetending that were were in Illnois.
Making strange moves as they drink at McCoys.

cross-posted:

I was truly madly deeply
On a street in old Samarkand,
And she sold kazoos to the peoplee,
While the waves came in on the Strand.

It was quarter to four in the graveyard,
And the last Autumn leaf descends,
While I drink latte and think hard,
'Cause I don't know how this verse ends.

Happy - cross - posted:

I read the headlines over my cornflakes
and i gave me quite a fright
they say someone murdered a circus
in the middle of the night
the chief said its the worst case
he'd seen in thirty years
they say they spared no quarter
and even spared no ears

They went straight for the Juggler
Yet- another, circus; dies out, overnight!

The whole world is a circus
Where our overseers work us
Harder than should be allowed.

I want to go to Tahiti
To live with my resident sweety,
And then park my butt on a cloud.

over 7 weeks and more to come
I've followed orders and some
I've eaten brick dust
I've breathed brick dust
I've spit brick dust
I've err sh brick dust
they say have plenty of roughage
IT DON'T WORK

plaster dust as well, but it don't rhyme

Dark, dark, dark is the bottom of the sea
As the Sprouts of Agony sailed from port,
Dimpled and sun-kissed, the wind blowing free.
Arthur of Leicester will enjoy a spoon of torte.


Then will the Maiden of Holroyd
Mail a jar of spicy pickles to Juan,
Which falls into an abysmal void,
As past the horizon the ship sails on.

I mailed a tank to Iraq,
But for insufficient postage it was returned,
So to Sears I go to buy a sock.
If I don't come back, this note must be burned.

Today I left my soul on the counter in Twuddle's Department Store.
I bought a flying tangerine, and was halfway home before
I sensed its loss. The gargoyles wept; they knew my sad mistake.
The gingerbread streetcar rushed me back. My heart was soon to break.

My soul had vanished. Sold, perhaps, to the flounder from Omaha,
Who always arrived just after me, then bathed at the pudding spa.
Just then, I spied a toddler, holding a glinting orb in his hand.
It was my soul! I coaxed it from him, safe in the promised land.

Smile when you walk down the aisle.
Carrying a pile of files.
Do it in glorious style,
And look at the tiles.
Think about the vile bile,
That comes out the files.
Which was put there by Miles,
As he was trying to be verstalie.
Tell them him that you are on a trial.
To dial beguile-a-isle, as you tile.

My Prudence is fairer than the meadowlark.
She is, yes she is, is she, is she!
She sings more beautifuller than the Rose of Denmark,
And is always fit as a fiddle de dee.

a man went into the butchers
asked for 2LB of sausages
the butcher said sorry!
we only have 1LB left
the man said it's ok!
I've come on my bike

I'm the Duke of Invisible,
But no one recognizes me.
My clothing looks terrible.
No need to hide behind a tree.

I've won awards for writing.
I chat with heads of state.
My life would be exciting
If not for brother Nate.

My shows have played on Broadway.
I've won the Nobel prize,
But I am prematurely gray
And have two bloodshot eyes.

My brother Nate committed crimes.
He's under house arrest,
And I am with him at all times.
We'll have to do our best.

I'd leave if only I could.
He's got so many sins.
We're stuck together for good,
'Cause we are Siamese twins.

My name is Mason and live in a basin.
Sometimes people waive at me and call me Jason.
Their reason for coming, was to season me.
They poured over me their herbs and spices.
Very precious ones they are, sold at high prices.
So as to turn me into delicious brie.
But all they did was turn them into a jumping flea.
With their disappointment, they went onto shopping spree.
And I on my own, I transformed into a wailing banshee.
Bathing in a basin of pea soup, listening to my cd.

two stories and a plea

story one:

la la la la la la la
i was tripping on a star
it didn't seem so very far
in my morris minor car
to where the angels, saints
and the good gods are.

story two:

hotch potch hotch pot
my little sister's such a swot
she can read while i cannot -
while Teacher puts me on the spot
and picks upon me quite a lot
and calls me a fool and an idiot


plea:

answers on a postcard please
for envelopes are such a tease
they bring grown men down to their knees
and make us cough and make us sneeze
and thirsty as the driest chinese
worker in the pyrenees