If you ever meet an elephant who wants to join your band,
it’s the sort of situation that will never go as planned,
so you’d better tell him “No” and try to make him understand,
before he starts to play.
First he’ll stumble and go crashing.
Then your stuff will take a bashing.
He’ll be dancing as he’s smashing.
He’ll act like this all day.
Then you’ll never make him leave because he’s happy as a clam
and it doesn’t make a difference if you yell at him to scram
when the only thing he wants to do is jump around and jam
and never go away.
He’ll be walloping and whacking.
Then you’ll need financial backing.
So you’d better send him packing
before he starts to play.
When Daniel went dancing that night at the fair
he leapt on the stage with his arms in the air.
He ran back and forth at a neck-breaking pace,
then back-flipped and cartwheeled all over the place.
He jumped like a jumping bean, bounced like a ball,
careened off the ceiling, and ran down the wall.
He flew through the room with an ear-splitting scream
till, shaking and sobbing, he ran out of steam.
The witnesses watching could see at a glance
that Dan had invented some new kind of dance.
They cheered and applauded. They gave him First Prize.
They cried, “You’re a genius in all of our eyes!”
So now, just like Daniel, from Finland to France
they sit on a cactus to start every dance.
Our teacher sings The Beatles.
She must know every song.
We ask her please to stop
but she just sings, “It Won’t Be Long.”
And then she croons like Elvis.
She clearly thinks it’s cool.
And if we beg her not to
she just belts out, “Don’t be Cruel.”
She then does Michael Jackson.
It drives us nearly mad.
We have to cover up our ears
because she’s singing, “Bad.”
She winds up with The Wiggles
or else a Barney song,
and, even worse, she tells us all
that we should sing along.
It’s all my fault she does this.
I feel like such a fool.
I wish I’d never brought
my karaoke box to school.
My puppy plays piano.
It’s the strangest thing to see.
It seems, while I was practicing,
he learned by watching me.
He started out on chopsticks,
then he learned to play some Bach.
It wasn’t long before he knew
the blues and classic rock.
He also taught my kitten how
so they could play duets,
and then they taught guitar and drums
to all my other pets.
They formed a band and practiced hard
and traveled all around,
and instantly got famous
for their catchy “Pet Rock” sound.
They made a smash hit record
and it wasn’t very long
before my pets were millionaires
because they wrote this song.
Benjamin plays bass guitar
completely out of tune.
Sarah sings while sucking from
a helium balloon.
Payton plays piano with her
elbows and her chin.
Brayden bangs on buckets
with a plastic bowling pin.
Nathan’s nose has two kazoos;
one sharp, the other flat.
Bailey sits on bagpipes
sounding like a screaming cat.
We play this way on purpose
with a sound no one can stand.
It’s fun to be the country’s most
annoying student band.
I’m learning to play the piano today.
Tomorrow I’ll learn the guitar.
The day after that I’ll get good on the drums,
so I can become a big star.
The next day I’ll learn how to sing and to rap,
and practice some dancing techniques.
And, that way, I’m sure to be famous and rich
in no more than one or two weeks.
I just told my mother my excellent plan,
explaining the millions I’ll earn.
She told me that, firstly, I’ll need to learn patience.
So, how long will that take to learn?
I listen to my chicken
as she sings her cheerful song.
I’m tickled with my turkey
as he gobbles right along.
My duck sings so delightfully.
I love my rooster’s rap,
and when my Cornish game hen croons
it makes me want to clap.
I give my goose a gander
and I giggle as she chimes,
for when it comes to poultry
I prefer the kind that rhymes.
“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! You’ve cut off your hair!
Your billowing tresses are no longer there.
That mohawk you’re sporting is spiky and pink.
I’m really not certain just what I should think.
“I came here expecting to clamber a braid,
ascending your tower to come to your aid.
Instead I have suffered the greatest of shocks
to find that you’ve cut off your lovely blonde locks.”
“Prince Charming, Prince Charming,” Rapunzel replied,
“I have no intention of being your bride.
We will not get married. We will not elope.
I’ve cut off my hair and I’ve braided a rope.
“You came here to visit me once every day,
and promised that soon you would take me away,
but you were too clueless to even concieve
of cutting my hair off so we could just leave.
“I cannot believe you were such a big dope.
I come and I go as I please with my rope.
And so, I’m afraid I can’t give you my hand.
In spite of the fabulous wedding you planned.”
From then on Rapunzel was known through the land.
She toured the world in a rock and roll band.
And silly Prince Charming, with rocks in his head,
rode off and got married to Snow White instead.
The fanciest dancer that ever did dance
was Elmo Fernando Rodrigo McGants.
McGants did a dance that was twenty parts tango,
eleven parts polka and five parts fandango,
with thirty parts two-stepping jitterbug waltz,
a tap dance, a backflip, and four somersaults.
He spun like a top for a hundred rotations,
then swung and lambada’d with pelvic gyrations.
He rhumba’d, he mamboed, he boogied to disco,
he did the merengue from Boston to Frisco.
He limboed and cha-cha’d from China to France,
completing the world’s most intricate dance,
and all because someone put ants in the pants
of Elmo Fernando Rodrigo McGants.
My tutor’s a flutist
who toots on a flute
while he tutors computers.
He thinks that it’s cute.
I think he should stick with
computers, not flutes.
It’s cool when he tutors
but rude when he toots.