Said, ‘Sid, you can’t stay here no more!

We’re going to knock your hat shop down

To build a new road through the town!’

‘Is that a fact?’

Said Sid the Rat,

‘Is that a fact?’

Said he.

‘We’ll see!

You build your road and I’ll get my hats,

And I’ll stack them up like a block of flats

Right in the middle

And, hey-diddle-diddle,

The cars won’t know

Which way to go!

And I’ll get the elk,

And the dirty old fox,

And the kitten

Out of her travelling box,

And the slithering eel,

And the wise owl too,

And the elephant

On his way to the zoo,

And I’ll tell you what they’ll do!

They’ll pull those drivers out,

Willy-nilly,

And they’ll tickle those drivers

And tickle them silly!

There’ll be huge traffic jams

But they won’t care!

So how do you like that,

Mr Mayor?’

‘Oh,’ said the Mayor.

‘Oh dear,’ said the Mayor.

‘Hum,’ said the Mayor.

‘I fear,’ said the Mayor,

‘You’d better keep your hat shop, Sid,

And carry on the way you did!’

Sid

Did!

Dave Dirt’s Jacket Pocket

In Dave’s jacket pocket

the last time I looked

was half a cold burger

three days ago cooked,

a dead mouse, ten dog hairs,

a chip, chewing gum,

a two-week-old note

to the Head from his mum,

a very old conker

that mouldiness grows on,

a twisted Tube ticket

for blowing his nose on,

a bitten-off fingernail,

part of a snail,

the tongue of a snake

and a dry lizard’s tail,

a piece of a sweet

just as sticky as glue,

all forming together

a horrible stew!

Don’t ask him to show you.

Of this there’s no doubt:

one look at the thing will

turn you inside out!

Get This Straight

Dear Uncle Sam, dear Uncle Sam,

Do you not know what sex I am,

Or is the whole thing just your little joke?

If it’s a joke, I’m not amused

That you pretend to be confused:

It makes me yowl: it makes me boil and choke.

It’s no good shouting, ‘What a chap!’

The fact is that I’m not a chap

And have no wish at all to be a bloke!

But there again, if your mistake

Is genuine – for heaven’s sake,

Your head must truly be as thick as oak!

It’s no good yelling, ‘Attaboy!

Look lively! What’s the matter, boy?’

The matter is that I am NOT A BLOKE!

Got that, Auntie?

Zoe’s Ear-rings

She bought ’em in the autumn

After spotting ’em in Nottingham.

She took ’em home to Cookham

And she put ’em in a drawer

Till May came and the day came

When she wore ’em down to Shoreham,

But nobody was for ’em

So she wore ’em nevermore…

Till the wedding of her sister

To a mister out at Bicester,