OK, so I’m no poet and I certainly know it, and there’s a couple of lines that would probably be better, but hey, I just made it up on the spot this morning.
Georgey Peorgey barrel and lead,
Kissed the girls then shot them dead.
When the men in white coats came out to play,
Georgey Peorgey gunned them away.
They chased him through cities and even a town,
But Georgey Peorgey would not go down.
He gunned away ladies and gunned away men,
And refused to put them together again.
‘Oh, when will it end?’ The people all said,
As they lay away sleepless in their cosy beds.
No matter how much was spent or how hard they lied,
Georgey Peorgey he would not be tried.
But while Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pale of water,
Georgey Peorgey closed in fast to make their lives much shorter.
But Jill had known of his evil plan,
And waited and waited while filling her pan.
He came with a strike not unlike a giant,
But he didn’t expect children to be so defiant.
Jill swung with her pan and hit Georgey down,
And he would lie forever with that confused frown.
The people all cheered and cried out for Jill,
‘Hooray for winning on that fateful hill!’
They threw at her roses and many a treat,
While Jack felt quite cheated alone at her feet.
So Jack travelled far to a land known as Wales,
Where anything can be found in those sinister sales.
He tracked down a man in those dark cloudy scenes,
Who promised fantastical, magical beans.
Jack knew of their power and made quite a deal,
Pretending to think the beans were not real.
He planted them quickly and waited all night,
While Jill was out partying with that tank top so tight.
She couldn’t have known what fate would befall her,
As she woke with a hangover while the giant, so taller,
Made his way down after hearing from Jack,
How Jill had forgotten him, and gave him some slack.
‘Fee figh fo fum, I smell the blood of an ungrateful tart.’
Was how the giant would so gallantly start.
And before Jill had eaten and after she showered,
The little young lass was untimely devoured.
‘Oh what shall we do?’ The people all cried.
‘These fairy tale people have so sense of pride!’
But lucky to them, a hero would solve all their woe,
For he was a boy known as Pinocchio.
For even such a boy that was made out of wood,
Had just managed to kill old Red Riding Hood.
He had tired of morals, and unwanted tales,
Of children with hearts and witches with nails.
So one by one, all creatures did vanish,
While Pinocchio acted well, and learnt some fine Spanish.
But then came the day when he met his arch numpty:
A nasty old brute by the name of Humpty Dumpty.
Their battle would wage for a day and a year,
As the public all watched and shed a small tear
For the small wooden boy was seeming to lose,
And had already lost his nice wooden shoes.
Humpty said: ‘For your life you must beg!’
But the honourable boy would not bow to this egg.
With a final act of strength he rose from the ground,
And Humpty emitted a terrible sound.
His shell had been broken, his gook was now seeping,
He cried at the pain, and would not stop weeping.
Pinocchio decided there was only one way to go,
And picked up an axe for the final good blow.
That day we will remember, oh sir you can bet,
For we all had a slice of that fine omelette.
And we were so glad they had now all gone South,
Even old Pochi, who put a gun in his mouth.
So let that be a lesson, for all of our sons,
That everything can be settled with the use of our guns.
Alastair Skerman
