Category: bad poetry (Page 1 of 2)

Song: 50 Ways to Find a Dead Mouse (with apologies – profuse ones – to Paul Simon

April 17, 2007 / Catherine / 0 Comments

Because not all the mice our cats kill get eaten. Some of them get put aside for later…

(This song goes to the tune of 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover. Also, it’s fairly disgusting, as you might have guessed from its title. That’s what happens when you have cats…)
The mouse is underneath the bed, she said to me
Or maybe in the bath, or under the TV…
Surprising presents are the nicest, don’t you see?
There must be fifty ways to find a dead mouse.

She said, It’s hard to say just where a dead mouse could belong
Furthermore, I hope my mousie won’t be lost for long
Or else you may find its aroma is quite strong…
There must be fifty ways to find a dead mouse.
Fifty ways to find a dead mouse…

What’s that stench by the bench, Dench?
Does that pail have a tail, Dale?
Did that dish just go squish, Trish?
I don’t want to see…
Did it fall in the hall, Paul?
I’ve found half in the bath, Garth
And there’s gore in the drawer, Shaw
But where could the rest be?

Could that part be the heart, Mart?
Will the brain leave a stain, Jane?
Is that hair on the chair, Claire?
Or is it something more?
Here’s a rat on the mat, Pat
Disembowelled on a towel, Raoul,
Entrails read on the bed, Ned
The future is sure…

She said it grieves me so to see you in such pain
But here’s a nice dead mouse to make you smile again
I said I appreciate that and would you please explain
Just where you left that mouse…

She said it’s much more fun to find it in the night.
When you get up to go to the bathroom without the light
And then she purred at me and I realized she probably was right
There must be fifty ways to find a dead mouse.
Fifty ways to find a dead mouse. Or rat…

Fling the thing in the air, Cher
Make it fly up on high, Guy
Let the bowl be your goal, Noel,
And the coffee mug, too…
Get it wedged near the fridge, Midge
Hide it snug ‘neath the rug, Doug
On the floor by the door, Lenore
As a present for you!

Find the treat with your feet, Pete
Smell its scent through the vent, Brent
When you tread on its head, Ed
Won’t you be proud of me?
Feel the ooze ‘tween your toes, Rose
Hear the crack of its back, Jack
See it spread as you tread, Fred
Now, find the other three…

(I know, I know. Some of the rhymes don’t [which is completely self-inflicted, because for some reason I felt compelled to do a triple rhyme when a double was all the original called for], and I really had to push my luck with some of the names – if you have any better suggestions, please let me know. But, oddly enough, the scansion should be pretty close to the original, which is a little weird in places anyway)

Song: A Werewolf State of Mind (with apologies to Billy Joel)

February 12, 2006 / Catherine / 0 Comments

This one goes to the tune of New York State of Mind, by Billy Joel. There is no real excuse for it.

Some folks like to get back home
With a DVD or a video
Grab a Fred Astaire musical
Or a Hitchcock show
But I’m taking out Wolfman
Ginger Snaps, and Frankenstein
I’m in a werewolf state of mind

I’ve seen all the movie stars
In their monster suits and their castles dark
Way up in Romania, in the mountains stark
But Silver Bullet‘s screening
And I don’t want to waste more time
I’m in a werewolf state of mind

It was so easy back when Buffy screened
With a brand new monster each week
But then the werewolves left us with Seth Green
With vampires there’s much less at stake…

It comes down to the fantasy
And it’s fine with me when it’s on my screen
Don’t care if it’s Lon Chaney or John Carradine
I don’t have any reasons
I’ve left them all behind
I’m in a werewolf state of mind

It was so easy back when Karloff starred
As Frankenstein and as old Fu Manchu
But watching Van Helsing I must conclude:
Not even werewolves could save this show…

It comes down to my DVDs
I’ll be Howling here in my living room
With Werewolves in Woodstock, or else in Washington
In the Company of Wolves
I’ll leave Dracula behind
I’m in a werewolf state of mind

When Frank & Drac meet the Wolfman, I won’t be far behind
‘Cause I’m in a werewolf state of mind

The Cats With Thumbs Song (with apologies to ABBA)

March 12, 2005 / Catherine / 0 Comments

This one goes to the tune of Money, Money, Money, and was essentially dictated to me by the cats.

I miaow all night, I miaow all day, to get outside, to get to play –
Ain’t it sad?
And still there never seems to be a can openable by me –
That’s too bad!
But in my dreams I have it planned:
If I evolve a human hand
I wouldn’t have to miaow at all, I’d rule the world and have a ball…

Thumby thumby thumby
Must be funny
To have human hands
Thumby thumby thumby
Always sunny
If I just had hands
Mia-iaow!
All the things I could do
If I had opposing digits –
It’s a human’s world!

Now evolution’s hard to do, but it is surely overdue
You agree?
And any cat would work and sweat to be an owner not a pet
Just like me.
But if that fails, one plan remains:
To get control of human brains –
I’ll hypnotise you handily, your human hands will work for me…

Mummy mummy mummy
Scratch my tummy
With your human hands
Mummy mummy mummy
Get food for me
With your useful hands
Mia-iaow!
All the things you could do
Just to make your kitty happy
It’s a feline’s world

Evol-evolution!
Is my solution
To have human hands…
Evol-evolution!
A revolution!
If we just had hands
Mia-iaow!
All the things I could do
If I had opposing digits –
It would be my world!

It would be my world!

Song: I’m Dreaming of a Hot Christmas (with apologies to Irving Berlin)

December 25, 2004 / Catherine / 0 Comments

This, of course, goes to the tune of White Christmas. Written for a friend who is in Europe this Christmas, and homesick. Something tells me that this won’t actually help with the homesickness!

I’m dreaming of a hot Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where the adults swelter
And look for shelter
And wish the North Wind wouldn’t blow

I’m dreaming of a bright Christmas
When it is light from half past four
Where the children waken
And gifts are shaken
And parents groan as they explore

I’m dreaming of my childhood Christmas
With seafood and a barbecue
With the waves all waving
And maybe bathing
And sand tracked into the loo…

I’m dreaming of an Aussie Christmas
Where smoke and gumleaves scent the breeze
With the cockatoos shrieking
And possums sneaking
To steal the fruit right off your trees

I’m dreaming of a summer Christmas
Where winter’s chill is long forgot
May your days be long, your nights short-
And may all your Christmases be hot.

I’m dreaming of a warm Christmas
Back in the southern hemisphere
May this season bring you good cheer-
And may it bring me home for Christmastime next year…

Song: The Kittens’ Flag Anthem (with apologies to the Communists)

December 9, 2004 / Catherine / 0 Comments

What can I say? Our cats are mighty huntresses, so when someone sent me this little icon, I had to write an anthem in their honour. This one goes to the tune of O Tannenbaum, and is of course based on The Peoples’ Flag.

The kittens’ flag is deepest red,
It shrouds our furred and feather’d dead,
And ere the rodent limbs grow cold,
We’ll drink their blood, and dye each fold…

(chorus)
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we’ll live and die,
Though humans flinch and rodents fear,
We’ll keep the red flag flying here.
Look round, the people love us cats!
They love us more when we kill rats.
And if rats give them such a thrill
Then pigeons must be better still!
(chorus)
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we’ll live and die,
Though humans flinch and rodents fear,
We’ll keep the red flag flying here.

It waved above our infant might,
When we slew moths in gardens bright;
It witnessed many a deed and vow,
We must not change its colour now.
(chorus)
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we’ll live and die,
Though humans flinch and rodents fear,
We’ll keep the red flag flying here.

With necks uncollared swear we all
To bear it onward till we fall;
Come laundries dark or humans grim,
This song shall be our parting hymn.
(chorus)
Then raise the scarlet standard high.
Within its shade we’ll live and die,
Though humans flinch and rodents fear,
We’ll keep the red flag flying here.

You’re Gonna Lose That Mouse (with apologies to the Beatles)

December 7, 2004 / Catherine / 0 Comments

Do you even want to know what inspired this? Let’s just say that every cat owner probably knows this one… It goes to the tune of ‘You’re Gonna Lose That Girl’, by The Beatles.

You’re going to lose that mouse
(Yes yes You’re going to lose that mouse)
You’re going to lose that mouse
(Yes yes You’re going to lose that mouse)

If you don’t take it out right now, it’s going to get away
(Under the couch to stay)
And if your sister hunts it out, then it will be her prey
(She’s going to get to play)
You’re going to lose that mouse
(Yes yes You’re going to lose that mouse)
You’re going to lose that mouse
(Yes yes You’re going to lose that mouse)

If you don’t pounce tonight, young cat
you’re going to find it gone
(That mouse can really run)
And if that mousey gets away
You’ll be the yowly one
(Which will be much less fun)
You’re going to lose that mouse…
(Yes yes You’re going to lose that mouse)
You’re going to lose that mouse
(Yes yes You’re going to lose that mouse)
You’re going to lose that mouse
(Yes yes You’re going to lose that mouse)

Oh yes, you’re clever, a mighty huntress – that we know
(Not in here – NO!) yeah
But darling kitty, please don’t let it go…
You’re going to lose that mouse
You’re going to lose that mouse
You’re going to lose that mouse
(Quick – there it goes across the floor!)
You’re going to lose that mouse
(Just get her out and shut the door!)
You’re going to lose that mouse
(Yes, you ARE red in tooth and claw)

Yes, you are mighty, the very smartest cat we know
(What a good throw!) yeah
But please, just pounce now – do not let it go…

If you must chase that mouse indoors,
you’d better kill it dead
(Or your sister will instead)
And you can feast on mouse organs,
And you’ll be quite well-fed
(But please don’t hide the head)
You’re going to lose that mouse
(No, please don’t chase it round the house)
You’re going to lose that mouse
(Please say you haven’t lost that mouse)
You’re going to lose that mouse!
(You’ve gone and lost that mouse)

The Tupperware Song

December 5, 2004 / Catherine / 0 Comments

This one goes to the tune of I Eat Cannibals. I have absolutely no idea what possessed me to do this.

I need Tupperware!
Oval, round or square
Your love is something edible to me
I need Tupperware!
I need Tupperware!
It’s unbreakable!
It’s bringing out the homemaker in me.
I need Tupperware!

What can you do
With leftover stew?
Clearmates, Stuffables
For all my vegetables
Modular mates!
Melanine plates!
FridgeSmart, Cheesmart
Tupperware will warm my heart!

I need Tupperware!
Oval, round or square
It even has a lifetime guarantee –
I need Tupperware!
I need Tupperware!
I don’t want to share.
I’ll have to host a Tupperware Party.
And get Tupperware!

Grinder for spice
Tray to make ice
Quick Shake, Jel-Ring
Forget the budgeting
Spatula, whisk
I can’t resist!
Zen Bowl, Salad Bowl
Give me more, I want it all!

I need Tupperware!
Oval, round or square
That Pick-A-Deli’s calling out to me…
I need Tupperware!
I need Tupperware!
Need it everywhere
I think I love the Tupperware Lady.
For her Tupperware.

All I wanna do
Is make a meal with you
We all have to eat
But life is not complete
If leftovers aren’t stored
(Shape-O, Snack Cups – I’m never gonna stop!)
In my pretty plastic horde
(Rock’n’serve, Season serve – I really do deserve!)
No matter the supplies –
(Burping plastic, it’s so fantastic!)
I have every size!
(I need Tupperware!)

I need Tupperware!
Oval, round or square
There can’t be too much Tupperware for me.
I need Tupperware!
I need Tupperware!
It’s a love affair –
I’m gonna be a Tupperware Lady.
And get tupperware!

Hostess gifties, always very nifty
Pinks, reds, greens, blues, how can anybody choose?
Sift-N-Store, Mix-N-Pour, not enough, I must have more…
Bake-to-Basics, Quick Shake, you’re the icing on the cake!

ChefSmart corkscrew, incredibly efficient too
Tumblers, Litre Jug, EZ wave, Commuter Mug,
Flan form, loaf form, help my pantry to reform!
Full up, can’t stop, must have a Forget-Me-Not…

The Gas Heater Song (with apologies to Hall and Oates)

July 29, 2004 / Catherine / 0 Comments

Our hot water system died. The pilot light had been blowing out pretty consistently, and then it started doing alarming whoomphy flames when I re-lit it. I was explaining to a friend that it only blows out at night, and suddenly I heard the opening bars of the Man Eater tune in my head…

She’ll only blow out at night
The hot and tricksy type
Nothing is new, I’ve been out here before
Freezing and listening
Ooh, she’s looking alright, but the pilot light’s no more
And nobody here can see
If the flame is on and the gas flows free
She’s cranky and old, and quite untamed by the threat of a gas-fitter
No more hot water
If you’re after a shower
You ain’t gonna get too far

(Damn, there she goes)
Watch out boy, she’ll blow you up
(Oh there she goes)
She’s the gas-heater…
(Oh there she goes)
Watch out boy, she’ll blow you up
(Damn, there she goes)
She’s the gas-heater…

I wouldn’t if I were you
I know what she can do
She spouts blue flames, she could really blow your house apart
Freezing the weather
Ooh, the fire is there but the cold is in her heart

(Damn, there she goes)
Watch out boy, she’ll freeze you dead
(Oh there she goes)
She’s the gas-heater…
(Oh there she goes)
Watch out boy, she’ll freeze you dead
(Damn, there she goes)
She’s the gas-heater…

Ooh,
Damn, there she goes
(No hot water!)
Watch out boy, she’ll blow you up
Damn, there she goes
(It’s cold)
Ancient gas heater!
Damn, there she goes
(Poor old gas heater!)
Ooh, she’ll blow us up
(Oh there she goes)
There she goes, no more gas heater
(Damn, there she goes)
(Watch out)
She’ll only blow out at night, ooh
(Damn, there she goes)
Late at night –
Good-bye gas heater!
(Oh, there she goes)
(She’s the gas heater)
When you’re in the shower – brr!
(Damn, there she goes)
There she goes
Watch out boy, watch out boy
(Damn, there she goes)
Oh, it’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold
(Oh, there she goes)
Yeah yeah ancient gas heater
(Damn, there she goes)
(She’s a gas heater)
She’s biding her time ooh
(Oh, there she goes)
Oh, evil gas heater…

The Emu Song (with mild apologies to Mariah Carey, though I’m not convinced the original is better)

November 3, 2003 / Catherine / 0 Comments

This was composed under the influence of essays and sleep deprivation, and has no other excuse. You can sing it to Mariah Carey’s song ‘The Hero’, but I’m not sure you should.

There’s an emu.
If you look inside your heart
You don’t have to be afraid
Of ostriches
They are flightless
And they readily dissolve
With the proper lysozymes
They’ll melt away…

And then an emu comes along
With a silly emu song
And, you’ll cast him to the sky
‘Cos he swears that he can fly.
And when the landing goes all wrong
Gather feathers, and be strong
And you’ll finally see the truth
That an emu lied to you…

Song: The Universal Filker (with apologies to Donovan)

July 4, 2003 / Catherine / 0 Comments

To be sung to the tune of the Universal Soldier, by Donovan

She’s five foot-two and she’s six feet-four
She writes with reason and with rhyme
She filches folk-song tunes, and she writes new melodies
Been a filker for a long, long time…

She’s an Alto, Soprano, a tenor and a bass
A rapper, a jazz singer, out of tune
And she knows she shouldn’t pun
But she knows it’s too much fun
To pun openly or poor puns impugn

And she’s writing ‘bout politics
She’s writing ‘bout cats
She’s writing ‘bout the S.C.A
And she’s writing ‘bout computers
And she’s writing about fruit
And she thinks it doesn’t count as filk this way…

And she’s writing about Bujold
She’s writing ’bout Star Trek
She’s writing about Lackey and Heinlein
And she’s writing about Asimov, she’s writing about Wrede
And she never knows just where to draw the line…

But without her, how would Star Trek’s fleet be banned from Argo’s shores?
Without her, Greensleeves would be left alone
She’s the one who gives her lyrics
For our laughter and our tears
And without her all this filking can’t go on

She’s the universal filker, and she really is to blame
Her ideas come from far away no more
They come from here and there and you and me,
And brothers can’t you see,
This is just what bright, creative minds are for…