8/22/08 - The only poem i think I can remember.

Although there might be others that I have memorized over time (Roses are red poems don't count), this is the only one that ever comes to mind.

One bright day in the middle of the night
Two dead boys got up to fight
Back to back they faced each other
Drew their swords and shot each other
A deaf policeman heard the noise
Came and shot the two dead boys
If you do not believe this lie is true
Go ask the blind man, he saw it too.

I Googled that poem to make sure I truly had remembered the whole thing, and actually, I never came across an author. What I did find is a much longer version of the same thing which at some point, I might be interested in memorizing. Here is the original website, and here it is for your viewing and reading pleasure.

The famous speaker who no one had heard of said:
Ladies and jellyspoons, hobos and tramps,
cross-eyed mosquitos and bow-legged ants,
I stand before you to sit behind you
to tell you something I know nothing about.
Next Thursday, which is Good Friday,
there’s a Mother’s Day meeting for fathers only;
wear your best clothes if you haven’t any.
Please come if you can’t; if you can, stay at home.
Admission is free, pay at the door;
pull up a chair and sit on the floor.
It makes no difference where you sit,
the man in the gallery’s sure to spit.
The show is over, but before you go,
let me tell you a story I don’t really know.
One bright day in the middle of the night,
two dead boys got up to fight.
One was blind and the other couldn’t see,
So they fought in front of a referee,
(The blind man went to see fair play;
the mute man went to shout “hooray!”)
Back to back they faced each other,
drew their swords and shot each other.
A deaf policeman heard the noise,
and came and killed the two dead boys.
A paralysed donkey passing by
kicked the blind man in the eye;
knocked him through a nine-inch wall,
into a dry ditch and drowned them all.
If you don’t believe this lie is true,
ask the blind man; he saw it too,
through a knothole in a wooden brick wall.
And the man with no legs walked away.


1 Comments - Leave one yourself

This reminds me of the "Far Our, Brussel Sprout" book I used to read as a kid. I'm pretty sure that poem (the small one) was in there.

Other books in the series: "Real Keen, Baked Bean!" - "Let 'Er Rip Potato Chip!" - "Unreal, Banana Peel!" - "All Right, Vegemite!"

By Anonymous Anonymous, at August 25, 2008 at 9:16 PM  

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