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

At times bad economics is a lot like awful verse,
With greed-fueled high delusions, all applied in ways not terse.
And if I went that route, with cantos reaching to the sky,
You lot would never read it, so I'll use some brevity.

You change your coat, everytime you are out on a boat.
And then you come home and float in the moat.
You say you are refined but you are always eating the bacon rind.
At morning breakfast when I remind you about getting new blinds.
But all you do is sit about, facing the east wind as you unwind.

And when you think, you start to wink;
everytime you are near the kitchen sink.
Because you don't want to wash the dishes,
even though I will give you lots of kisses.
Then the cat jumps on the table and starts to makes hisses.
Whenever she sees you dressed in wild pink mink.

You think you're bold, when you can go out in the cold.
You say you'll be good as gold when you clean out the mold.
And then you go and sit down and drink a pint of stout,
watching the tv on learning how to cook bean sprouts.
Then you start to pout about the way I cook the trout.
Talking to you always ends up in a fight,
about who to invite at our parties and should it be tonight.
As you stroke the pup, and sup from the cup,
saying yup everything time I give you tomato ketchup.

You have forget about the holiday on the yacht,
where you had a fight about who took the backhand shot.
When you were playing snooker, as you broke the cooker.
You fill me with dismay when you forget to book the buffet.
As I listen to drone on, with your corny cliches.
Telling very old jokes at our banquets and soirees.

You're not good as gold when you join the football fold.
You never ever played footie when it's very cold.
You say you are going to the college and get enrolled.
On a course about how to treat potato mold,
as well as how to traverse over the vold in the Cotswolds.
Then join in a wrestling class and learning how to do a wrestling hold.

The heads of every nation got together, and they told
Of famines and disasters caused by the potato mold.

choking chickens shiver
and salty salmon slither
cow pats steam on grills
pure beef to cure your ills
two pats make a quarter pounder
two rashers make a soft roll rounder
a sweet soft fleeced lamb
fodder for saturday's drunken man
kebabs, bacon sandwiches
fried chicken and hamburger dreams
food for thought
like the sparse saltless salmon of the streams

"Six rashers of plotkins bring!"
He babbled, out o' 'is mind wi' ale,
"And a jolly good bobnit for the King!"
They lead him off to jail....

sweet celophane
what an unexpected olfactory treat
on opening an unispiring packet
you with fond memories did greet
put a smile on my face
inhale: audition the next bisto kid
oh glossy spotless factory smell
memories of fresh opened playing cards
i wish for just; a little longer to dwell

They say it's fun in the sun,
epecially eating buns on the run.
As I told my hun who think he's a nun.
Danced as he spun out his corny puns,
about how he won a gun that weighed a tonne.

You asked me to go with the flow,
and throw dough at Jo the pro.
To make her glow as starts to grow.
Bowing as she walks in the snow.

Shirking and slinking, as I accrue screws.
Have not got a clue why, but I am on the way to the zoo.
Don't know what I am doing or why I am doing it.
I am just trying to keep fit as I try and do my bit.
Sitting and looking at the view, playing my kazoo.
Using bamboo as I try to construe a canoe.

You're always reading the Guardian, dressed as an Edwardian.
Pretending to be an encyclopedian as you tell me you're my custodian.
Sitting and laughing as you play the accordion.
And in the evening you parade around dressed as the Gwydion.
With your magic spells, giving out arts and civilisation.
As you chant out your incantations, full of elation at your new vocation.
Celebrating the sensation of the creation of a new plantation.

A man with many words
Often wishes he was heard
A silent chap looks on then naps
Thinking less said more heard perhaps

In Parliament the one who is the strongest,
Is the one who speaks the loudest and the longest.
Yet we were told, when we were small boys,
To shut up!
Empty kettles make the most noise!

The kettle could tell tales if we would but ask.
He sheltered once a genie, who escaped to bask
In sun upon a tropic beach, and in its place
The kettle put a hare who long ago lost a race.

A dejected kettle- colnonel Bogey- hummed.
A microwave whistled when it had done.
A whisk burped.
A toaster sighed.
A blender blew a kiss
A coffee maker looked on cross eyed
A refridgerator and an oven a tango trod
A while ago i would have thought this odd

Foliage on trees so fit for a king
As only wet springs and a hot summer can bring
No wonder good birds do sing with delight
They give shade by day, spooky shadows by night

In these delightful pleasant glades
Let us celebrate with sweet young maids,
Before it's too late and we go to Hades.

People say that I am very flexible as I am very good at yoga.
And are amazed as I drive my onestoga, wearing a Roman toga.
But I love to do my thing, as I sing about wearing bling.
Dreaming of flying with wings to farthest Xiaoping.

Now I have to make a confession, I take part in jam sessions.
But that is not the worst part, I always make strange facial expressions.
As I sing out my raps songs, making people laugh at my impressions,
of famous rappers as I try to get people's attention to the bands new addition.

I gotta rock n roll soule, brudda

I gotta a rock n roll heart, sistah

I need ta catch ma breath

Maybe, with a big net

Like a butterfly collector

A maniac running in a field

I dont know what it means

Its just the way that i feel

Here we come with beer,
and lots of cheer.
For the austere peers,
travelling to the final frontier.
Followed by a line of deers,
holding spears for the engineers.
Who are volunteers for the brigadiers.
As they enter the gigantic sphere.

Starting a new careers as pioneers,
of driving in third gear.
As they act very calavier,
when they steer toowards the seaside pier.
Day-dreaming about living in Zaire,
Wearing their bandoliers;
to impress the sincere marketeers.
Who sell books written by Edward Leer,
and then sit down to domineer racketeers.

drunk!
drunk as
drunk as a skunk
drunk as a skunk drunk on wine of word - from tipsey!
from tipseyed over the edge of the ledge
from tipsey over the edge of the ledge oh my head
from tipsey over the edge of the ledge oh my head is in bed wake quake quick Mick


quick Mick !
quick Mick mo now
now quick Mick mo
now shout out stout
stout neck stick out vest - belloowwwwww!

alright now.
how?

alright now how ?
fell off a roof?
fell off a roof while Ruth ?

hows Ruth ?

strewth!

I found a bad little poem under my bed.
"What you doin'?" was what I said.
"Leave me be, for I'm not ready yet!
My existence you must now forget!"

During the night it died and went to heaven or Hell.
All that's left of it is the smell.

There was a black cat that wore a mac.
Sitting on a haystack,
looking at the railway tracks.
People called him Zach,
and fed him savoury snacks.
Which he would share with Jack,
the local hack.
Who also worked as the local quack.
Both of them wore slacks,
when they were removing plaque.
That was growing on the railway tracks.
And was rewarded with a sack,
full of potatoes and rice.
As well as fruit flavoured ice,
and a few electric devices.
For a treat, pork pie slices,
and sugared mice.