While sailors open drums of rum
To swig below the decks
Indulgent captains who succumb
Are often found in wrecks
Nauti Buoys
Tag: humor
Welcome to Finland
If killer whales stood on their tails
And walked out of the sea
A dog’s next trick he’d learn real quick
Is how to climb a tree
Game of Cones
I have a dog whose name is Spark
Who sometimes takes me to the park
Where we enjoy an evening stroll
I feed the ducks; he’s on patrol.
An old pro, Spark knows all the tricks
From playing dead to fetching sticks
His latest one involves a scheme
Which bags him loads of free ice cream.
He’ll spy a toddler on his own
Who’s struggling with a waffle cone
One far too big for little hands
And all the balance that demands.
Spark uses charm and big, brown eyes
To get him closer to the prize
Then as he nears these little ones
That’s when he grabs the cone and runs.
I’m deeply saddened by each theft
And every howl from the bereft
Whose double-scoops of lemon lime
Perpetuate this life of crime.
The mothers round on Spark and curse
So I make sure they’re reimbursed
Which throws the whole plan in reverse
For he was taught to steal a purse…
Less Cargo
Our friend, the snail, needs never pack
For all it owns is on its back
It heads out on the open road
Quite unencumbered by its load
Snails never need to book hotels
Instead they curl up in their shells
Emerging when they feel the need
To partake in an evening feed
We mock the snail, its sluggish pace
And yet some pay to watch them race
Ironic, say the French, and crude
Who view them solely as fast food
Branch Locator
Without any apology
I traced my genealogy
In hope I’d find an entry
Replete with well-heeled gentry.
Perhaps a Duke without an heir
Yet to bequeath his titled lair
Or better yet a Duchess
Who’d keep me in her clutches.
I dreamed of billionaire tycoons
Who sipped and supped from silver spoons
Whose present state of wealth
Fared better than their health.
But no! I learned my great-great-gran
Was jailed because she shot a man
Who wooed her in a heath
Then ran off with her teeth.
Another ancestor trained bears
To ride on bikes and dance on chairs
Until they grew to hate him
I guess that’s why they ate him.
Much further back, one of our crowd
Could summon rain down from a cloud
But locals weren’t that smitten
Because they lived in Britain.
If you’ve swung through my family tree
Please have the cheque made out to me
Because this brachiator
Wants paying now, not later.
Much Ado
If you’re flat broke it’s said you’ve got
A fair amount of diddly-squat
And maybe more because this means
You also own a hill of beans
Which may forestall the need to beg
When added to your great goose egg
Combined with zero, zip and zilch
With all of this why would one filch?
Because if you give it more thought…
When you’ve got nought, there’s lots you’ve got
Secret Santa
The day before The Night Before
The office turned into a store
With gifts galore from Santa’s stock
At lunchtime, right on one o’clock
A furtive glance across the room
As someone tried to wrap perfume
A figure hunched behind a fern
(the new girl had a lot to learn)
A friend will cough to help a mate
Disguise the sound of Sellotape
Shirley’s eyes revealed a glint
Each time she dropped another hint
In knowing just what not to tell
She kept the weak under her spell
And Andy, bless him, the poor dear
Just hoped he’d get it right this year
For Sue, who longed for something French
He’d bought a Jean-Paul Gautier wrench
Old Davey Wilcox saved a packet
He thought the whole idea a racket
His gifts were met with trepidation
Bought at his local petrol station
All dreams of wintry escapades
Were dashed by half-price wiper blades
Still, pity those who drew Pru’s name
The dowager who ran the game
And claimed the true meaning had gone
Then priced her gift on Amazon
Big Tony came to stuff his face
So ate at an alarming pace
Before they wrapped it up for Luke
Whose wife was just as bad a cook
Stollen, edam, Toblerone
Belgian nougat in a cone
Baby Jesus, Heaven sent
Now came via the continent
I’ve seen several scars happen
Over a slice of marzipan
Paper plates now put aside
Each festive tummy satisfied
Fiona stood to give a toast
But belched up Captain Morgan’s ghost
So Lenny then began to lift
And sift until he found his gift
50 ml of CK One
Would do quite nicely for his son
Aww, it’s lovely… that’s so sweet
As girls are wont to coo and tweet
With every present they unwrap
And gaze upon whilst in their lap
Which makes guys pause and think a bit:
This Santa thing’s made me a hit
That perfume seemed to animate her
I’ll say ‘hi’ at the laminator
So Merry Christmas one and all
Be pleased you got a gift at all
Enjoy that glass of Triple Sec
In your new purple turtle neck
Present Tense
The day I want to bake some bread
You’ll be the first to know
Were you confused that time I said
I need to make more dough?
And should I wish to buy a goat
Around the holidays
Feel free to name it but take note
I’d like it honey-glazed.
A scented candle lets me know
Exactly what you think
You’re hoping when it’s all aglow
At last, my house won’t stink.
That weird liqueur with toads inside
Distilled by monks in France
Soon made me wish that I had died
Then made me shit my pants.
The Cookie Monster sweater seemed
To spread more disarray
On seeing it, the baby screamed
And both cats ran away.
Gym memberships address excess
With weights or on a mat
Do you think I need to de-stress
Or is it that I’m fat?
It’s not the gift, John, it’s the thought
While this, no doubt, is right
It’s what they’ve thought, not what they’ve bought
Which keeps me up at night.
Sleep Over
My love swears I snore like a bear
This is a husband’s fate
A wife’s is to give thankful prayer
That men don’t hibernate
Cat Nip
The difference between cats and dogs?
Hold each in an embrace
Your dog will share a loving nod
A cat will scratch your face
Mr Ormsby At Large 