I’ve been negligent with my posts lately because I’ve been so busy with work, work and more work. Ugh. Well, there is some light at the end of my tunnel because I’m off next week on a much-needed vacation to the beaches of Cayo Coco in Cuba.
For now, I’d like to offer a belated salute to Halloween with these scary scary nursery rhymes that are NOT meant to be shared with children (unless said children share all the characteristics listed on the FBI’s behavioural science checklist, warning signs that you may have a budding serial killer on your hands. If that’s the case, these nursery rhymes are the least of your problems.)
Little Bo Peep
Little Bo Peep’s
In trouble deep,
And isn’t sure where she should turn.
She stuck the mister
With her sewing scissors,
Last time her affections were spurned.
In a panic, Bo Peep
Fell sound asleep,
And dreamt that she heard him bleating,
But when she awoke,
There lay the bloke,
Messing her rug with his bleeding.
So up she took
Her silver crook,
Determined to haul him outside,
It took more than a sec,
With the hook ‘round his neck,
To drag him to shore by high tide.
As he bobbed out to sea,
Bo felt wistful, indeed,
For life’s lonely at times with just sheep.
If he’d only behaved,
Her rug could have been saved,
And he’d not now be down in the deep.
Bo Peep heaved a sigh,
Wiped a tear from her eye,
And back over the hillocks she went.
Once again, sought her sheep,
Not a one was a creep,
They were far more endearing than men.
Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With Harold’s eyes,
And Robert’s thighs,
And Ray’s ribs buried all in a row.
O Where, O Where Has My Manager Gone?
O where, O where has my manager gone?
O where, O where can he be?
With his ears in the freezer,
His tongue down the drain,
There’ll be no more demands made of me.
The Queen Of Hearts’ Son, Jack
He cut out the hearts,
Of the neighborhood tarts,
‘twas a signature of Jack’s.
Fortified with gin,
He absolved them of sins,
Tied their hands up with cord at their backs.
Jack’s mission began,
When he punished his mam,
The biggest tart of them all.
She and her feller,
Are laid out in Jack’s cellar,
Tucked up in a funeral pall.
Sing A Song Of Sixpence
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of lye,
Four and twenty digits,
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened
By the county coroner,
He quickly then determined
That a murder had occurred.
A hand was in the suspect’s house,
Stiffened ‘round some money,
An ankle in the parlour
‘tween sliced bread and honey.
A torso in the back yard,
Hung among the clothes,
And a scarecrow in the garden
Wore the victim’s severed nose!
There Was A Little Girl
There was a little girl,
Had a gun inlaid with pearl,
Aimed right at the middle
Of his forehead.
When she was broke,
She was very, very broke,
And when she was broke,
She went robbin’.
Photographs compliments of gratisography.com and pixabay.com
Create-a-holic Writer 