At standing still I have a skill
that truly is unique.
At sleeping I’m unquestionably
on a winning streak.
At lying down I’m unsurpassed;
I’m simply undefeated.
At sitting I’m the reigning champ;
I’ll never be unseated.
At drifting in a daydream
it is obvious I’m blessed.
At staring at the TV
I’m undoubtedly the best.
At doing nothing
I am even better than you’d think.
At everything besides that, though,
I’d have to say: I stink.
I hope someday I’ll maybe learn
another kind of skill.
Until then I’m content to be
the best at standing still.
I’m a sad and lonely Cyclops.
I am so misunderstood.
Though I probably look fearsome
I am actually good.
I’m as harmless as a kitten.
No, I wouldn’t hurt a fly,
But my neighbors think I’m monstrous
with my solitary eye.
So they laugh at me and tease me
and they often call me names,
plus they won’t let me participate
in their Olympic games.
They won’t let me join their practices
or even watch a tryout.
So I sit at home and sniffle
and I sadly cry my eye out.
While shopping at the pet store
I got my fondest wish.
I bought myself a fish bowl
and then a pair of fish.
And since I was already
out shopping at the store
I thought I ought to purchase
another smidgen more.
And so I got a rabbit,
a hamster and a frog,
a gerbil and a turtle,
a parrot and a dog.
I purchased an iguana,
a tortoise and a rat,
an eight-foot anaconda,
a monkey and a cat.
A guinea pig, a gecko,
a ferret and a mouse,
and had them all delivered,
directly to my house.
My sister went berzerko!
She’s now installing locks,
because I said her bedroom
would be their litter box!
My senses all are backward
and it really makes me wonder
if on the day that I was born
somebody made a blunder.
For, strange but true, my senses
all got totally reversed.
Now everything I like the best
is what you’d call the worst.
I only like the smell of things
that frighten other noses.
I love the odor of a skunk.
I hate the smell of roses.
I only like the taste of foods
that cause most folks to shiver.
I hate the taste of chocolate.
I’m crazy over liver.
I’m not too fond of music
but there’s simply no denying
I like the sound of honking horns
and little babies crying.
I hate the feel of silky, velvet
softness on my skin.
I much prefer the way it feels
when sitting on a pin.
I hate the look of anything
that’s really cute and snuggly.
The things I think are pretty
are what most consider ugly.
So let me tell you one more thing
before I have to go:
I think YOU are the most attractive
person that I know.
Oh, spinach is one of my favorite foods;
I savor each wonderful bite.
I eat it each day
served up every which way.
I also enjoy it at night.
And yes, I like sauerkraut, turnips and leeks,
and all kinds of peppers and shoots.
I think that the beet,
is just perfect to eat
like all other vegetable roots.
I love every leaf, every seed, every sprout;
Each plant in the vegetable phylum.
I like to consume
them right here in my room
at the lunatic mental asylum.
My name is Double Danny and
I always do things twice.
I’m completely double-jointed
and I’m double doggone nice.
When I see a double feature,
I prefer to double date.
I arrive there double early
and I leave there double late.
I like double talking, double-time,
and doing double takes.
I wear double-breasted jackets,
and eat double-layered cakes.
When it comes to doing homework though,
I’m not a double dunce.
For I’ve got a double standard,
and I only do it once.
Don’t play baseball with your Brussels sprouts
or tennis with tomatoes.
Don’t play soccer with your succotash
or ping-pong with potatoes.
Don’t play hockey with your hot dogs.
Don’t go bowling with your beans.
Don’t play racquetball with rump roast.
Don’t play tag with tangerines.
When you’re sitting at the table
just enjoy your mother’s cooking,
and refrain from playing with your food,
except when no one’s looking.
My brother isn’t very nice,
he’s cruel as can be,
And so my parents made some rules
to stop him hitting me.
He’s not supposed to wallop me.
He cannot punch or whack.
He must not slap, tap, beat, prod, poke,
nor slam, strike, knock, thump, crack.
My parents made so many rules
to try to stop his fighting.
I wish they’d make just one more rule,
preventing him from biting.
Sit back and I’ll tell you of Tommy McTivver,
whose parents uncaringly made him eat liver.
I’ll try to explain, in a sensitive way,
why Tommy McTivver is not here today.
You see, when you serve up that rubbery meat
it smells like the sweatsocks of stinky old feet.
The room becomes filled with the hideous odor
of all the manure in the state of Dakota.
Poor Tommy was given a plateful of liver
which frightened the dog and which made the cat shiver.
But nevertheless Tommy did what was right;
he cut a big piece and he chewed up a bite.
Then what happened next is too horrid to tell;
his body went stiff and he shrieked as he fell.
The ambulance came and they drove him away
and promised to have him returned in a day.
The driver, however, drove right off the street
when he heard what Tommy had happened to eat.
The man accidentally drove into the river,
and all because Tommy McTivver ate liver.
So everyone died and I’m sorry to say,
this story could happen again here today.
So please, mom and dad, think of Tommy McTivver
and don’t make me eat one more bite of this liver.
An elephant followed me home today
after waiting outside my class.
He patiently puttered around all day
playing hopscotch and munching grass.
He followed me out to the parking lot
and then rode with me on the bus.
He squeezed in the back near my normal spot
while the other kids stared at us.
He came in my house like a dog or cat,
after smashing in through the door.
At dinner he pulled up a chair and sat,
and then fell through the kitchen floor.
I’m trying to sleep, but it’s really tough
with an elephant in my bed.
He’s heavy and huge and his skin is rough,
and his trunk is across my head.
So though it may not seem relevant
please remember to heed this warning.
Don’t ever give nuts to an elephant
if he follows you in the morning.